Moving On
by AsgardianGrizzly
Summary: AoU SPOILERS- PIETRO LIVES. "Pietro, Wanda, meet Peter Parker," Clint introduced. "You replacing us, Old Man?" Pietro demanded, holding a hand out to Peter. "No, you brat, I'm just being a nice person," Clint scoffed. "That okay with you?" Pietro the Protective and Wanda the Weird. Yea, Peter was gonna have to get used to this. ( Peter meets Pietro and Wanda. At Clint's house. )
1. (Prologue) Meet Peter Parker

Prologue-

 **Hello all. So this idea came to me today and I couldn't resist typing it up. What you need to know: this is the movie-verse (with Andrew Garfield as Spiderman) and takes place after Age of Ultron by maybe half a month to a month.**

 **Cover image is mine. Please don't take unless you let me know. ;)**

 **#PietroLives is totally supported, so that'll be in here.**

 **This's my first Avengers Fic, so let's see how this goes, haha.**

 **Anyways, shall we?**

 **Oh, btw:**

 _ **Italics**_ **= POV character thinking**

 _ **/Words/**_ **= Someone else communicating via telepathy**

 **(Credit for that system goes to Eboni, because she's the first person I saw use it)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel characters or setting. :'( I haven't seen any other story like this, so I take credit for the idea. ;)**

 _Clint Barton_

When Clint first joined the Avengers, like any other normal human being, he thought the worst part of being a hero was going to be the constant stress of fighting. Man was he wrong. As he had discovered, early mornings were killer. His wakeup call had a _vast_ range of no sleep at all to 5 AM (and that was only if Laura allowed it).

He mentally cursed. _So now, here I am, called at some early-ass time in the morning to meet at Avengers tower._ The Great Archer jabbed one of the controls on the Quinjet and grumbled as the thrusters powered up.

Clint had technically been contacted at 11:30 _yesterday_ night, but it was a four to six hour drive _at least_ to get from his farm to the _New_ Avengers Mansion (where he was visiting quite often nowadays), much less _Avengers Tower_. On top of that, he was confident that a recently un-pregnant Laura had eaten all of his Oreos, so he didn't have his daily Oreo-boost. The Archer flipped the 'Communications' switch on the panel laid out before him and watched as a live video feed appeared on a small screen on the console. It rung for a second before beeping, a signal that the call was accepted.

"I think I might retire," he announced.

"You wouldn't last a minute retired," Wanda replied as her face formed on the screen.

"You're right, where would I be without my skintight Avengers uniform, and Steve barking orders into my ear every minute?" Clint scoffed back, with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh please, you love them," retorted the Sokovian with a playful smile.

"Wait, what time is it? You sleep okay? Did the call wake you up? Sorry bad idea on my part." Clint rambled, concern etching into his features as he subconsciously flicked a few more controls.

"I am fine," the little sorceress assured. "Back in Sokovia, Pietro and I would wake up at this time every day, sometimes earlier," Wanda explained. "I'm used to it." She said, as if recalling a fond memory.

"Alright…" replied Clint uneasily. His eyebrows furrowed suddenly, "I've been gone, what? Five minutes?" Clint scolded as he caught sight of Pietro limping into the kitchen behind Wanda, attempting to be sneaky. "Hey, you white haired bastard! You're supposed to be in bed! And resti—Hold on! Are those my Oreos?! Those better not be my Oreos, you brat!" Clint accused, tapping digital Pietro crossly.

"Lay off, Old Man!" the reply came through a mouthful of cookies. "I am just stretching my legs!"

"Pietro!" Wanda said with a frustrated tone, realizing her brother's presence. " _M_ _ot_ _ă_ _nel!_ You must return to bed!"

Pietro threw his hands into the air, "God! Can't I do _anything_?! What is this?! Prison?!"

Clint's tenseness eased and he chuckled as the male twin left the room (with the cookies in hand, Clint noticed). "Looks like he's doing better." He chimed with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"Mm," Wanda muttered with a frown. "I suppose. He pretends to be fine, at least. He'll act all tough when you're here, but he was hurting last night." She paused and an ache pulsed in Clint's chest. "It was bad, Clint. Nightmares, flashbacks, physical pain."

"The whole load, huh?" Clint sighed. Wanda nodded sadly. "I'll stop by Cho, after I see what Steve wants, see what she's got for him. Sound good?" he offered with a small smile.

"Yes," she returned. A beat of silence. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, kid." Clint flipped another switch as he hit a bit of turbulence.

"What do you think the Captain wants?" inquired Wanda in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit more.

"Dunno. Probably something boring. Patrol or some shit like that," shrugged the Archer as he gazed out into the sky.

Wanda smiled at that, "Hopefully it's a bit more exciting then you make it out to—"

"Good morning you two," came a new voice. Clint grinned like an idiot as Laura appeared behind the sofa Wanda sat on. His wife bent over and pressed a kiss to Wanda's head. Wanda still seemed a bit off with physical contact, but Clint could see she was getting better with it. Laura stayed bent over, propping the upper half of her body up on her elbows, a gentle smile on her face.

"Good morning, Miss Barton," Wanda answered, looking over her shoulder and Laura.

"Wanda, how many times am I going to have to tell you? You can call me Laura, its okay," Laura said gently, squeezing Wanda's shoulder lightly.

"Right, apologies Mi— _Laura_ ," the Sokovian corrected quickly, an embarrassed red appearing on her cheeks.

"And how 'bout you, husband?" asked Laura as she looked at the camera, straight at Clint. "No good mornings?"

Clint smiled at his wife playfully, "Right, right, sorry." He adjusted the coordinates so he was pointing in the right direction, "Good morning hon—"

"Oh no, _you_ have to call me 'Miss Barton'," Laura stated with fake authority.

Wanda laughed and Clint played along. "Alright, _Miss Barton_ , you have any idea how Pietro found out where the Oreos were?" he asked cheerfully.

"I had _nothing_ to do with that," Laura said with a sly smile. She winked at Wanda and Wanda stifled another laugh.

"Uh huh, sure."

"Well, I've got about two hours before Cooper, Lila and Nathan are up and moving, I'm going to go read a book and enjoy the quiet," his wife announced. "I'll see you later, love you." She gave a small wave.

"Bye. Have fun," nodded Clint with a smile.

"And I am going to go check on Pietro," Wanda added as soon as Laura left. "He's probably forgotten to take his medicine." She sighed worriedly.

"Or avoided it," Clint agreed. " _You_ should try that crap. Pain meds taste like horse shit."

"I'll take your word," she scooted forwards, reaching for the tablet she was using to speak with him. "Oh, and I will let Cooper and Lila know you said hello."

"Thanks, let me know if there's anything else you need," Clint thanked; he sighed contentedly as the Wanda nodded and the screen went black.

He looked up to see New Avengers Mansion on the edge of the horizon. It didn't take long before the Mansion was just below him and he was lowering the Quinjet onto the rooftop landing pad.

He was welcomed by the entire Avengers team (Tony, Steve, Natasha, Bruce, Thor), Steve standing point.

"Hola," Clint greeted as he walked down the ramp, bow in hand.

"Barton," Stark said. He wasn't wearing his usual Iron Man Armor, apparently feeling it necessary to dress in a suit today.

"Hawkeye," Steve replied, giving him a firm handshake.

"Agent Barton," Bruce gave a laid back smile (although, Clint wouldn't expect—and or want—much else from him).

"Friend Barton!" Thor cheered, slapping him on the back. Clint cringed, releasing a breath.

"So what's the deal, why'd you call us here?" he croaked as the team entered the building and began down a long corridor.

"Well, if you'd been _on time_ , you'd know," Tony prodded, a smug look on his face.

"Yea well I don't live five minutes away, like _some of you_ do," Clint replied pointedly.

"Excuses, excuses," chided the billionaire.

"Lay off, Stark," Natasha interrupted, "It's not like you were much better. You were technically late too."

"Yea, but not as late as him," Tony retorted, gesturing a hand at Clint.

"Can we focus on the point?" Bruce asked curiously. "Like Clint said earlier, is there a reason we're here?"

"Don't worry, we're almost there," Steve replied, typing in a four digit code into a keypad.

"You know what I still don't get?" Tony rambled. "Why can JARV—the _Vision_ hold Mule-near?"

" _Mjolnir_ ," Thor corrected with a hearty laugh. "I do believe he is worthy. I thought I the only one, but apparently there is another."

"But that doesn't make any sense. It's _science_. If he can hold it then—oh! I've got it!" Stark suddenly shouted. The team went on alert at the loud noise, all eyes going to Tony. "It—the hammer—it's got a DNA identification scanner. Your lighting brought the Vision to life, as you were _on top of the Cradle,_ mind you!" he said, waving his hands about and shoving a finger at Natasha's face to make a point. "I bet your DNA was transmitted into the Cradle, giving Vision a piece—be it a very _small_ piece—of your DNA, so he can hold the hammer." He threw his hands in the air, as if to say 'There. Beat that.'

"While that is a most intelligent idea," concluded the Asgardian, the rest of the team watching in interest. "I fail to see how my DNA travelled through the lightning."

"Oh and we checked," Natasha pointed out with a smirk. "Vision doesn't have DNA. His cell tissue is made of Vibranium and prosthetic skin."

"Shit," Tony bit out under his breath.

"Nice try, Stark," Steve chuckled. "Oh, it's up here." He said suddenly.

Clint looked up to see a large window dead ahead of them. The window pane separated the hallway from another room. It appeared to be some sort of lounge area for the New Avengers. The Vision sat on one of the three couched placed in sort of a three sided rectangle, the forth side being a flat screen. The AI was chatting with Rhodey—or War Machine, as Tony had said. Sam— _Falcon_ —was mildly talking with the two, but he Clint's hawk eyes caught him peering over the Vision's shoulder.

Clint drew his eyes over to where Sam was looking and spotted a kid—maybe Wanda, Pietro's age—perched _on_ the wall. He peered out a close by window, looking deep in thought. The hood on his dark gray hoodie was drawn up, but Clint could easily spot brown hair.

"Who _is_ that?" Bruce asked curiously.

"And what mystic arts does he possess?" demanded Thor as he eyed up the teen's position on the wall.

"Everyone," Steve announced. "Meet _Spider-man_ of Queens, New York. Meet Peter Parker."

 **Okay, so this was basically just an introduction, more interesting scenes will take place next chapter. Trust me. ;)**

 _ **M**_ _ **ot**_ _ **ă**_ _ **nel = "Small Male Kitten" in Romanian XD**_

 **I PROMISE: Pietro will be a large character in this story, sorry he wasn't in this chapter much. And Peter will definitely be important.**

 **Let me know what you thought of this little trial. Reviews, feedback and PMs much appreciated. ;)**

 **-AsgardianGrizzly**


	2. Taking Flight

Chapter 1-

 **Hey guys! Thanks so much for the follows and favs! Bit disappointed at lack of reviews, but I get it. ;) Prologue aint much to review on. Let's hope I can fix that up this chapter. (Thanks to those of you that did review! I appreciate it!)**

 **Shall we?**

 _Clint Barton_

The Avengers had gathered in a small conference room.

"Guys, come on, I can't do this," Clint said with an irritated tone. He sat in a high quality office chair. "You realize what you're asking me to do, right?" he swept his gaze over the room. After receiving no response, he sighed. "I've got Laura, Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel—"

"Natasha," Natasha muttered.

"— _Nathaniel_ ," Clint emphasized, crossing his arms. "On the way. On top of that, _you_ people dropped two European kids on me! One of which is a sarcastic brat, and the other is a freaking witch!"

"Oh come on, Barton, you can't lay that on us," Steve argued, his mask was off and his brows were furrowed in concentration. "It was _your_ idea to have Pietro and Wanda live with you."

"Don't get me wrong! The twins are great kids, and I'm sure Peter is too, but I don't have that kinda space!" Clint explained. "I agreed to keep an eye on them, not babysit them! That was your idea, _Captain!_ "

"Clint," Natasha warned.

"Friend Barton, was I mistaken in assuming you admire children?" asked Thor with a confused tone. He fingered his hammer unsurely, flicking his eyes around for assurance.

"No, Thor, you were right," Tony commented with a raised hand. Thor visible relaxed. " _Legolas_ , here, is just picky. Apparently, he only likes _certain_ super-powered teenagers. Arachnid-boy just isn't as appealing as the Silver Streak or Sparky."

"You should talk!" Clint growled, throwing a hand at the genius and standing up from his chair. "How many kids do you have at _your_ house? Why didn't you let Pietro and Wanda stay at your big-as-hell tower? What about this _mansion_? Why can't he live with _you_ , Stark?!"

"Let's not let this get out of hand," urged Bruce as he stepped in between the two heroes.

"No, hold on a minute," Tony snapped, stepping around Bruce. He pulled off his sunglasses, folding them and slipping them in his breast pocket. "You don't think I tried, Barton?" Clint narrowed his eyes, trying to get a read on Stark. "I offered for the twins to live with me. They don't _like_ me. Actually, they hate me. I sorta blew up their parents, remember?" he bit out, shoving a finger into Clint's chest. "So maybe if you can convince them that I've changed, and I'm not a _complete_ ass anymore, yea, the kids could come over to Uncle Tony's house to party, huh? That sound good to you?"

There was a tense silence in which the Avengers watched electricity buzz between the Archer and the Billionaire.

"How about we all calm down," offered Bruce. "He doesn't really have to stay with Clint or Tony. He _could_ just stay here."

"Not an option," Steve denied, bowing his head. "He's got a severe concussion, a sprained wrist, two broken ribs and a previously dislocated shoulder. The facility's too loud with the New Avengers training, and Stark's place ain't much better. Believe it or not, some people do actually think things out." He sighed sarcastically, directly the last sentence at Tony.

"Except you didn't think that costume out, did you?" chimed Tony with an eye roll. Natasha hid a smirk and Bruce frowned as if to say 'he had to make it worse'.

" _Listen_ ," Steve said, obviously working very hard to keep his temper in check. "Peter's been through a serious trauma. He needs help, and you're the best man for the job."

Clint gave a long sigh, a beat of silence, and then "Fine! Fine." The room seemed to un-tense. "But I'm not agreeing to anything! Let's just…ask the kid what he wants? Alright? He wants to come with me? He wants to come with me. He wants to go with Stark, he can go with Stark. Alright?"

A nod from Tony and Steve.

Tony slipped his sunglasses back on and headed for the door into the hallway, "Okay, let's go talk to the kid on the wall."

 _ **~AVENGERS~**_

They approached the teenager carefully. Steve had politely asked Rhodey, Sam and Vision to exit the room for time being, which they understood of course. Clint was still uneasy about this whole thing. He didn't like the idea of another teenager at his house, but he thought he could at least give the kid a chance.

"Peter?" Steve called, a bit quieter than usual, in respect for the teenager's headache. The brunette peered down at them from his perch on the wall. His hood was still up, but (being closer up) Clint could now see a black brace on his left wrist, peeking out from under his sleeve, and a sling that had probably been on his shoulder, now laying on the floor. "You wanna come down and talk a minute?"

Peter gave a small nod and, as if he'd flipped an invisible switch, slid down the wall, landing on his feet in front of the team.

"How are you feeling?" Natasha tried, tilting her head with the question.

He shrugged with his good shoulder, "Like crap." He admitted.

"Understandably," Steve agreed with a sad smile and a bob of his head. "We know we can't bring your aunt back, but we have a few options on where you can stay if you'd like." Peter looked at them cautiously, looking as if he thought they were all going to pounce on him at once.

"Take it easy, kid," Clint ordered gently. He held his hand up in a gesture of peace, but Peter flinched at the movement, staring at the Archer's hand like it had grown claws.

"Can I go home?" asked the teenager suddenly.

"What?" even Tony was surprised. "The Avengers offer you a place to stay…and you want to go home?" The Great Iron Man was having a hard time grasping the idea, if had been him in Peter's shoes—Clint was sure—he would've taken the deal without a second thought.

"We can't guarantee your safety if you leave," Bruce reminded Peter uneasily.

"My _safety_?" repeated the brunette with a concerned look. "Am I in danger?"

Steve swapped his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "We…have reason to believe…" he broke off, staring Peter dead in the eyes. "We have reason to believe that your aunt's death was the work of Hydra. They're a terrorist organization. S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks they found out about your… _other_ life, and saw you as a threat. They probably assumed you were a new Avenger and tried to take _you_ out. It didn't go as planned." Peter was frozen, staring at the Captain with wide eyes.

"They…they murdered her?" it came out as a whisper. "Because of _me_?" Peter's knees buckled and he would've fallen if Clint's reflexes hadn't kicked in. He rested a hand on Peter's good shoulder securely.

"Hey, hey, be careful there," Clint warned. "It's okay. You wanna sit down?"

"They—I killed her," the wall-crawler said shakily. His eyes flicked to Clint's and Clint was greeted by teary hazel-brown eyes. "She was all I had…and I killed her…"

"Okay, let's sit down," Clint grunted as he lowered Peter onto the ground. Peter sat with his knees drawn up, staring back out of the window. He winced again but it faded as quickly as it had arrived.

 _Ah shit_ , Clint cussed mentally, balling his hands into fists. He sighed outwardly. _I got no other choice_. _This kid's gonna kill himself if he stays here._ He needed a family. Someone to keep an eye on if you asked anyone in the room at that moment who had the best eyes, you'd get the same answer: him.

Clint stepped forwards, crouching in front of the teen.

Steve opened his mouth to speak but Clint silenced him with a hand. "Listen, kid, you've been through a whole lotta shit in the past couple days," he addressed Peter sternly. "I—" He paused, peering around for video cameras and frowning in frustration when he spotted one. He'd have to wipe it later. "—I have a farm a few miles from here." He announced, turning his attention back to the teenager, who was looking at him with interest. "My wife's there, she can help me take care of you, if you'd like. You'll be safe there. Away from the city, that is. Just until this all blows over." He promised. "Meanwhile, they—" he threw a thumb over his shoulder at the Avengers behind him. "—can track down your aunt's killers—Hydra—and take them down. Whad'ya think?"

Peter still appeared indecisive. He pressed his lips into a thin line and flashed his eyes over everyone.

"Just until it all blows over." He agreed.

 _ **~AVENGERS~**_

"Yea, I'll have to tell you about Budapest sometime."

The Archer had already begun to walk up the entrance ramp to the Quinjet—or what he liked to call "the Hawk". Don't laugh. He drove it most of the time anyways.—, and had started conversation, only to realize Peter was being held captive at the end of the ramp, swarmed by Avengers and New Avengers.

Clint looked back down the ramp at the group and sighed.

"It was nice meeting you," Rhodey shook Peter's hand firmly and then gave a small salute.

"Indeed, it was most pleasurable," Vision agreed with a smile that made chills run down Clint's spine. He still didn't trust Vision. So he could hold Thor's hammer? Tony's theory hadn't been proved wrong…yet…

"Man, wish you'd stay longer. You'd make a helluv'an Avenger," Sam grinned like a lunatic, even getting the kid to crack a smile.

He muttered something that Clint couldn't make out, probably a 'thanks' or a 'yea, see you guys later' because he then turned to leave, only to be surrounded by Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

"Don't worry, Clint might seem like a boring old geezer, but you'll like him once you get to know him. Just don't say anything if you hear his bones creak," Clint heard Natasha quip, with a sly smirk. She eyed Clint over Peter's shoulder and he shot her a death glare, a head shake, and returned her smirk. Peter glanced over his shoulder, hiding a smile.

"Natasha, you bastard," Clint swore under his breath. He let out a breathy laugh and crossed his arms.

"I await your next arrival, Man of Spiders!" Thor bellowed, giving Peter his mark of approval (a whopping slam on the back). Peter cringed, but gritted out a grin.

"Thanks— _cough_ —can't wait," he muttered, near silently.

"Call if you need anything," Steve offered, holding out his hand. Peter stared at it like he had to Clint's hand earlier, but reluctantly took it and gave it a small shake. He then nodded uncertainly.

"Tell Clint to call me if you start feeling any worse," ordered Bruce. He removed his glasses as he spoke, wiping them off on his shirt and replacing them on his head. "It was nice to meet you, Peter." He added last minute.

Tony and Peter shared a long gaze in which the two seemed to silently decide that Peter could call Tony if ever need be. Tony didn't smile or speak for a while, he simply raised a curious eyebrow and peered over the edge of his sunglasses. Eventually he shot out a small smirk and said, "I'll figure you out someday, kid. You let Cupid—" he pointed a short look in Clint's direction, earning a grumble from the Archer, "—know if you ever get sick of Little House on the Prairie, you can come stay at my place for a couple nights."

Peter gave a thankful—nearly not there—smile and returned Tony's nod from earlier. He readjusted the duffle over his shoulder—chock full of a set of clothes provided by the team, a spare pair of shoes, and apparently his old Spider-Man costume. All of the kid's meds had been packed into a separate duffle by Bruce and put on the plane earlier. Clint had no idea how Banner'd fit all of that crap into a tiny duffle like the one he'd received, but he didn't question Banner. No one questioned Banner.

Finally Peter made his way up the ramp and into the Quinjet. There was a pilot's seat and a co-pilot's seat, the co-pilot seat had been added recently by Stark after he'd decided it was more useful to have two pairs of eyes in the front. Clint took pilot while Peter collapsed into the co-pilot chair. He immediately seemed to lose his happy demeanor. The teen did, however, gape at the vast set of controls before he blinked and tried to situate himself, setting his duffle on his lap and—Clint noticed—clutching the strap in a white-knuckled grip.

"You ever fly before?" Hawkeye asked, curiosity sparking behind his eyes. He flicked a few switches and the engines powered up.

"I—uh—I can swing between buildings and lampposts," Peter murmured with slightly widened eyes. The New Avengers Facility began to shrink beneath them as they took off, Clint jabbing some buttons and closing the ramp as the Quinjet took the sky. "I flew once on a plane, I think. When I was younger." Rambled the brunette teen. He stopped. "Haven't flown like this. It's—I dunno." The kid retreated again. Clint could practically see his confidence backing back into its cave.

"Hey," Clint prodded, nudging Peter's left arm with his right elbow. He flicked his glance between the sky and the teenager, who seemed to be deflating more and more by the second. He looked paler, his eyes more sunken in, the cheeriness draining.

Clint took action. "I like to think people were meant to fly. God probably wanted us to, anyways. It's why I named myself _Hawk_ eye. Well, part of it anyways. I've also been told I make a good eye in the sky." He flashed a smirk.

Peter spared him a glance and then returned to his moping.

Clint sighed, easing back into his chair. "It's a long ride kid, I hope we don't spend the whole thing like this."

A long silence set in. Clint kept his focus on the sky, Peter kept his on his own thoughts. _Probably dark ones_ , Clint noted when he caught Peter blink back a tear or two. _This is gonna be harder than I thought_ , Clint thought as he flew. _This kid doesn't seem to like me much. He might—_

"If God wanted us to fly, he should've made the airports less confusing." Peter chimed quietly, and Clint swore he saw a smirk peek out.

Clint looked at the kid and smiled.

 _Well shit. This just might work._

 **Eh? Bad? Good? Let me know! I know this was still a setting things up chapter, but I hope you guys stick with me a bit longer, at least. ;) Pietro should make an appearance in the next chapter, when Pietro and Peter finally meet! :D Anyways, I hope you guys liked the Papa!Clint fluff sprinkled in this chapter.**

 **Thanks again for all the kind reviews, follows and favs! Much appreciated.**

 **Please do drop a review if you've got the time. Feedback keeps me motivated. ;)**

 **-AG**


	3. The Unusual Twins

Chapter 2-

 **Aw guys! You make me blush! All your reviews, favs, follows and PMs. ;) I'm super super excited that everyone likes the story, so here's another update for everyone!**

 **Just wanted to say thanks to** _ **guest**_ **, whoever you may be, for reading my other stories! I appreciate it! And thanks to** _ **La Chica**_ _ **distraida**_ **for the review also! It brightened my night (last night XD)! :D And then of course my buddies, you know who you are, thanks so much for the reviews! :D**

 **IMPORTANT: I just recently re-watched Avengers AoU and I totally forgot Laura isn't pregnant anymore! She had Nathaniel at the end of the movie! Nathaniel Pietro Barton! ;D So I've gone back and adjusted those details, so she's no longer pregnant. She's still her fun self though. So Nathaniel's like 2-3 months old at the time of the story.**

 **As requested, another chapter. ;D Thanks again everyone!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or its characters. :'(**

 _Peter Parker_

Clint seemed like an okay person, really he did, but Peter didn't feel like he could trust anyone right now. Someone had tried to _murder_ him. Someone _had_ murdered his Aunt May. The _Avengers_ —the freaking Avengers!—had saved him, and now he was going to _Hawkeye_ 's house to stay for a while. If he didn't like it there, then _Tony Stark_ had given him the okay to come stay at _Avengers freaking Tower_.

It was a lot to take in.

Oh, and did he mention that this had all happened in a span of the past two days? No? Well it all happened in the last two days.

The Archer had been speaking to him about some incident that had happened in Budapest, but Peter had gotten distracted. "Hey, Peter, you still with me, buddy?" Clint spoke to him like he was a child, even called him 'kid'. It wasn't bad. He wasn't aggravated with it. It was just…unusual. Uncle Ben was always shaping him into a man, and now here was Hawk— _Clint_ from the Avengers, calling him 'kid' and letting him be one.

Peter snapped out of his daze and turned his focus to the Archer. "Yea, yea, sorry. Zoned out for a second."

"It's fine," Clint replied loosely. "I've had my fill of concussions. Inability to focus is a symptom, or so I'm told." Peter raised an eyebrow at that. Not focusing? Yea, he supposed he was zoning out a bit more, going into his own little world. " _Apparently_ , Natasha has to repeat everything a few times before I can actually hear them, and maybe even reply."

"Are you…" Peter stopped briefly, clearing the hitch in his throat. "Are you two…" Crap. What was the right way to put this? "… _close_?"

" _Natasha_? And _me_?" Clint scoffed, making Peter feel idiotic. "Like I said earlier—although, you _were_ pretty stunned—I have a wife back at the farm. Kids too."

"Kids?" Peter questioned in what could almost be a concerned manor.

"Yea, but don't worry about them, they ain't loud. A boy and girl. Cooper and Lila. Oh—and Nathaniel. He's new. You'll like 'em I bet," Clint said with a smirk. Peter nodded a bit. He didn't have much experience with children. He'd saved a few. That always felt good. The one boy on the bridge…Jack, Peter will always remember that name. He'd had been sweet, but he hadn't had any experience with children up close, as Peter Parker. Clint seemed to consider something before he spoke again. "Oh…and there's two… _others_ …"

Peter peered back at Clint with a 'why'd you say it like _that_?' look.

"They're twins," announced the Archer. "Pietro and Wanda Maximoff."

"Adopted?" inquired Peter, eyebrows raised.

"Christ, no!" Clint frowned. He obviously didn't like them, or one of them at least. There was a pause of silence and Peter started to wonder if the conversation had finished. "Crap, kid…I dunno. I mean, they've never asked, and I've never brought it up. Pietro and Wanda _Barton_ doesn't have the best ring in the world."

"Sounds fine," Peter shrugged, immediately stopping when pain darted through his right shoulder and his apparently broken ribs. "Are they…is there something _wrong_ with them?"

"Nah, of course not! They're fine kids," Clint disagreed immediately, shaking his head with the words. "I mean…okay, well, there's one thing you should know, actually." Peter gave Clint as much attention as he could muster with the throbbing headache in the back of his skull. "They're…enhanced... Like you." He nodded at Peter, just to make a point. Peter stared in disbelief. More super teenagers? Like him?

Peter looked quickly back at the Avenger, "What—?" He didn't need to finish, Clint caught on.

"Pietro's a speedster, and…well…we like to say Wanda's _weird_. She does…it's a…ah, you have to see it…" explained Clint as best he could.

Peter had removed his hood earlier on. He was debating putting it back up. He didn't feel comfortable anymore. Two more superheroes? What were they like? And he wasn't an idiot—probably the opposite, actually—the names: Pietro and Wanda, they weren't American. European of some sort, he assumed. What if the American teenager weirded the two Europeans out?

"I know what you're thinking," Clint sighed.

"No you don't," Peter objected quickly. He frowned. "Sorry…"

"Don't worry about it," Clint smirked. "I do the same thing. As I was saying, I'm guessing you're worried about meeting them, huh?" Peter didn't respond or give a gesture of any sort, but Clint took it as a 'yea'. Which was true, as it turned it out. "Listen, I'm sure you'll be fine. They're good kids. Well, Pietro's a handful sometimes, but they both have…good intentions…"

"Okay," Peter said simply. He still wasn't comfortable. He sunk back into his chair and stared uneasily out the windshield. The clouds were nice, soothing even. He liked them a lot better than the skyscrapers he saw back home.

"Okay," Clint agreed. "We're still about an hour away, so feel free to close your eyes."

Peter considered sleep. He liked the view from up here. He didn't want to miss it. His body had other ideas.

It didn't take long for him to nod off.

 _ **~AVENGERS~**_

Peter awoke to the rumbling of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Jet landing.

"You back on Earth?" Clint asked from the pilot's seat.

"Mhm," muttered Peter drowsily. He gazed out of the front window to see a large expanse of field surrounding a long gravel driveway, a barn, and a massive forest behind the house. Peter marveled at the farmhouse. It was beautiful, in an unusual way. It just had that old timey charm that reminded Peter of old country movies, cowboys and horse riding. It didn't seem to fit the Archer at all, but then what did he know?

"I called ahead while you were asleep, so my wife knows we're coming. She probably didn't tell the kids yet, so we'll have to see how this goes," announced Clint as he flicked a switch and turned a crank. The jet powered down. "Alright, let's go meet 'em."

Peter grabbed the armrests of the chair, shoving himself to his feet. Clint grabbed under his left arm when his knees nearly buckled. The teenager reached for his duffle only for Clint to reach down and swipe it up.

Peter frowned, "I can—"

"Relax kid, it's five pounds," sighed Clint with a lazy smile. "Now come on, if they haven't spotted the massive jet in the driveway yet, I'm taking them to see an eye doctor."

Peter nodded and headed for the ramp. Clint snatched Peter's Medication duffle off one of the four backseats and then pressed a button and flipped a switch. The entrance/exit ramp lowering to the ground with a hiss, it clanked upon impact and unfolded a bit, as to make a smooth walkway. Clint began the descent, looking excited. He waited for Peter to cringe his way down the ramp, and then stayed by the teen's side as they walked the distance from the jet to the house. Clint had parked the vehicle on a wide gap in the field, so it wasn't a long walk.

They reached the farmhouse quickly and shouts of 'daddy's home!' and 'Mom! Daddy's back!' sounded through the screen door. Said door almost immediately flew open, and two kids came charging out. The skidded to a stop on the porch when they caught sight of Peter, leaving Clint open armed and awaiting his hug.

Peter looked at the two kids, a boy and girl, carefully, flicking his eyes between the two. They peered back at him with innocent curiosity before breaking into smiles and charging again. They flung themselves at Clint, nearly bringing him to the ground. He held one in each arm, kissing them both on the head, before he let them slid down to the grassy plain.

The both looked back up at Peter, the girl more shyly than the boy.

"Who are you?" the boy—crap, Cooper? Was that it?—asked with a strong voice.

"This is Peter Parker," Clint introduced, releasing his hold on the girl (Lila?), gesturing to Peter, and then replacing his hand.

Lila tilted her head, balling her pink flower dress in one hand. "Your name sounds like Pietro's."

Peter furrowed his brow in disapproval, but, upon seeing Lila's frown, he quickly gave his best smile. "Your right, it kinda does."

"Do you have powers like him and Wanda?" Cooper inquired, peering around Clint to see Peter.

Peter looked unsurely at Clint, who gave him a nod of insurance. "I—uh—yea. I climb walls and I shoot webs."

"Like a spider!" Lila realized with bright eyes.

"Exactly," Peter agreed, unable to hide his smile.

Clint crouched down to his kids' height. "Where's your mother?"

"Give me a minute, would you?" called a voice playfully from the door. Peter looked up to see a pretty woman with long brown hair leaning on the door frame. "Nathaniel up there," she gestured to the ceiling. "Doesn't let me move as fast I used to. I had to get him to let me loose."

Clint chuckled, walking towards her. Peter followed at his heels, Cooper and Lila taking to either side of him and eyeing him up and down. Clint's wife beamed in a kind, motherly way and kissed Clint on the cheek before gently moving him out of the way so she could get a good look at Peter.

"A kiss on the cheek?" Clint pondered. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked with a smile.

"You didn't do the dishes, so Mommy had to do them," informed Lila.

"You must be Peter," Clint's wife greeted, bringing Peter into a light hug. She seemed to be aware of his injuries, because she carefully avoided his ribs and shoulder with her arms. "I'm Laura, Clint's wife."

"Nice to meet you," Peter said unsurely. "I'm—yea, I'm Peter…" he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

Meanwhile, Clint was looking surprised. "I told Pietro to do—"

"You told _Pietro_ to do the dishes?" Laura whirled on Clint, startling Peter. The two younger children watched from between their parents, eyes looking between the two as if they were silently saying 'oh man, now he's in for it'. Peter stifled a smirk and turned his attention to the husband and wife.

"Well, yea, I—yea," Clint shrugged, scratching the back of his neck much like Peter just had. They obviously shared the same nervous tic.

"Clint!" Laura scolded, "What is wrong with you?!"

"What?!" Clint demanded with a large shrug. "He's 19!"

"He's injured!"

"Jesus Christ, is he still milking that?"

"Clint!"

"What?"

"Clint!" this time it came as a warning.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Clint apologized, holding up his hands.

"I'm not the one you should apologize to," Laura informed, crossing her arms and glaring at the Archer firmly.

"But—"

If looks could kill, Peter would be at Clint's third funeral.

"Yes dear," sighed Clint. He entered his home, and Peter caught him muttering 'quick little bastard' and 'this is what I get for saving the planet'.

"And can you let the twins know that we have a guest?" Laura asked, earning a 'yup' from Clint.

Laura turned her attention back to Peter, who froze when her eyes fell upon him. He wasn't sure about Laura. She seemed…unpredictable…to say the least.

"Come in, come in," Laura offered. "You must be cold." She observed, gazing at his hoodie.

"I'm okay," he promised. No, he was cold, but he wouldn't say it.

"Nonsense," Laura waved him off. She opened a closet as Peter shut the screen door. Cooper and Lila scrambled into the living room, flinging themselves at the couch with gleeful shouts of 'press play!' and 'hang on!'. Peter looked over to see that they were playing _Mario Kart_.

The house was big. The living room was attached to the dining room, which didn't seem to get used all that often, and that was all Peter could see on that side of the house. Dead ahead of him was a wooden staircase leading up to the second floor.

He looked back at Laura in surprise when he heard something get pulled off a hanger. She held up an old jean jacket.

"It's Clint's old one, so it should fit okay," Laura added as she helped Peter put it on. He looked into a full-size mirror attached to the inside of the closet door and nodded at what he saw. It wasn't too shabby. The jacket hung a bit lower than it was supposed to, but it didn't look terrible. He'd worn worse. Besides, it was worn in, so it was comfortable.

Peter shoved his hands in the pockets and looked over to staircase as they creaked and multiple footsteps echoed the house. Two teenagers followed Clint down to the main floor, a girl supporting a boy. While Clint continued all the way to the bottom (eyeing Peter's jacket), the first teen, Peter assumed it was Pietro, held out his hand and stopped his sister from continuing.

Pietro was unusual to Peter. He had _stark_ white hair (no pun intended) that appeared to be…well, Peter assumed it was dyed because the roots were a darker brown. It was messy, ragged even. Pietro was a shade of pale that Peter had only seen in hospitals, but he did seem to be regaining color. He wore gray sweatpants and a zipped up black athletic sweatshirt with white arrows down the sleeves.

His sister, Wanda (?), had long brown hair and brown eyes that somehow welcomed Peter and freaked him out at once. She wore a short dark red dress and a black shall over her shoulders.

Clint had said they were twins, but they didn't look much like twins, apart from some facial similarities. They both had dead set, determined eyes (although Pietro had blue, and Wanda brown).

"Pietro, Wanda, meet Peter Parker," Clint introduced, holding a hand out to Peter.

Pietro glared in Peter's direction, not in distaste but…Peter would probably compare it to protectiveness, caution, probably of Wanda. Wanda meanwhile continued to look at Peter, tilting her head one way, and then the other, as if she were deciding if she liked him.

"You replacing us, Old Man?" Pietro demanded suddenly, looking over to Clint. Peter raised his eyebrows at his thick European accent.

"No, you brat, I'm just being a nice person," Clint scoffed. "That okay with you?"

Pietro narrowed his eyes, turning his attention back to Peter.

"It is…nice to meet you…" Wanda said unsurely, like she hadn't met very many people.

Peter nodded, unsure what to say. It was…awkward…very awkward…He shifted uncomfortably under Pietro's gaze, and nearly collapsed in relief when Nathaniel let out a loud cry from upstairs.

Laura sighed tiredly, walking past Peter to the stairs.

"I'll do it," Pietro offered, turning and beginning up the stairs.

"Pietro," Wanda said nervously as her brother grabbed his stomach halfway up.

"I'm fine, Wanda," he bit back, silencing his sister.

"Well," Clint smirked, clapping his hands together once, loudly. "I'll go make dinner."

"I should go let in Lucky," Laura nodded, making her way to what Peter could only assume was back door. "Make yourself at home Peter, your bedroom is upstairs, to the left." The teen looked up at Wanda, as they were the only two people remaining.

"Lucky is their dog," Wanda announced, breaking the uneasy silence.

"Oh," Peter nodded, fuddling with his hands in his pockets.

He reached down slipped his duffle bag over his shoulder. Clint had already taken his medication bag somewhere. Wanda stepped to the side, welcoming up to the top floor. He obliged, beginning up the stairs.

"Nice jacket," Wanda complimented with a small smirk, eyeing the patchwork jean jacket.

Peter let out a nervous laugh. "Yea, it was Clint's. Laura thought I was cold."

"She's like that," Wanda replied, laughing a bit. "Protective, I mean."

They reached the top of the stairs and Peter was out of breath, one hand on his side.

"Are you alright?" Wanda inquired worriedly, looking him over. Peter startled as he felt her…her _presence_ in his mind, but it vanished as quickly as it came, leaving him staring. "You're hurt."

"What was…" Peter muttered, still staring.

"Clint didn't tell you?"

"He said you were 'weird'."

"Ah."

"Uh huh."

"Do you need help getting to your room?" Wanda offered. "I could—"

As if he had been listening, Peter wouldn't be surprised if he was, Pietro called "Wanda?!"

"Yes Pietro? I'm coming!" Wanda called back. Nathaniel was still wailing.

Peter shot a small smile in Nathaniel and Pietro's general direction.

"I'm sorry," Wanda apologized, frowning. "He is protective."

"It's okay," Peter shrugged. "I can manage."

"I'll introduce you to him later, when he's in a better mood," promised the little witch.

"Sounds good."

Wanda made her way down the hall to Nathaniel's room, where Peter then heard. "Agh! Pietro! What did you do?!"

"I was trying to help!"

"His bottle is on the ceiling!"

Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Don't blame me!" Pietro argued.

Pietro the Protective and Wanda the Weird.

Yea, Peter was gonna have to get used to this.

 **Whew! Extra long chapter! This one almost hit 3,000 words. I've done longer, but I'd like to keep these chapters shorter so I can bang 'em out. How'd you guys like Protective!Pietro? And how'd I do with Laura? :)**

 **Let me know what you thought! Thanks for all the positivity!**

 **The next chapter will hold more Pietro/Peter bromance. Promise. :) It'll be up tomorrow, or maybe even today, depending on feedback and overall motivation to write. XD**

 **Please drop a review if you've got time! Thanks for the follows and favs!**

 **-AG**


	4. An Awkward Introduction

Chapter 3-

 **Ooh, man, sorry for that later update. I was at a nature camp! And then busy with catch-up homework…hehe…yay…**

 **Thanks so much for all the favs, follows and reviews! They are extremely appreciated! Im happy you all like my little idea. :)**

 **On happier news, let's check in with our boys Peter and Pietro, huh?**

 _Peter Parker_

Peter had offered to dry dishes, much to Laura's disagreement, she had said he should rest. But Clint washed and he dried, and it was efficient, so she had agreed after some convincing. Laura was setting up dinner now, humming a song that Peter had never heard. Cooper was reading a book in the living room, sprawled across the couch, while Lila was dressing a doll that looked vaguely like her in a pink dress. Peter remembered something about them. Gwen said she had had one when she was younger...a… _New York Girl Doll?_ Something like that anyways.

As it turns out, Lucky was a calm golden retriever that perked up whenever you said its name. It had quite the fondness towards Clint and followed him whenever he went to grab anything at all. It was currently sitting at Clint's feet, tail swishing a bit, head flicking as it watched Clint speed through the dishes.

Peter looked up from the shining white plate that he was towel drying and watched as Pietro limped into the connected kitchen/dining hall, Wanda at his heels.

"Nathaniel is finally asleep," Wanda announced with a sigh.

"Thank you both," Laura said with her trademarked Mom Smile. "I appreciate it." Pietro gave a tired nod, basically collapsing into one of the wooden chairs at the table. Wanda smiled at Laura before returning to her brother's side and rubbing his back, murmuring something to him in a language that Peter had yet to figure out.

Laura turned around, a dish of roast chicken in hand, she halted her humming, "Dinner should be ready any—" she paused when her eyes caught Pietro. The white-haired boy had rested his head on the table, clutching his stomach with both hands, while Wanda continued to stroke her hand on his back.

"Is he okay?" Peter asked, taking the words right out of Laura's mouth.

"I'm fine," grumbled Pietro.

Wanda again whispered something to him in the exotic language, and Pietro snapped back a retort in the same language.

"Yes…he's fine…just tired," Wanda assured them.

"Do you need anything? I could get you some ice?" Laura offered. "I think Clint's got your medication upstairs."

Clint turned off the running hot water in the sink, wiping his hands on a towel piled on the countertop. He wiped off the remaining water on his flannel ( _because, let's be honest_ , Peter thought internally, _those things never dry your hands all the way_ ). The Archer ambled over to Pietro, giving a long exhale.

"What's wrong?" Clint queried. Peter narrowed his eyes.

"Nothing. M'fine," Pietro repeated unconvincingly. Peter wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't been listening hard.

"You don't look that fine," he voiced out loud. Pietro shot him a glare reading 'you're not helping.'

"Pietro," Wanda pressured, trying to see his face only for him to turn away.

"I'm just hungry," Pietro murmured. "And tired." He added as an afterthought.

Clint gave a sigh of disbelief.

"We'll eat now, _Motănel_ ," Wanda agreed reluctantly.

Peter was still unsure. Pietro didn't look the greatest. Or at least, from what he learned in science class, you weren't supposed to be sweating and limping around on your average day. Laura set the roast chicken down in the center of the table, turning around to grab some other dish.

"Coop, Lila!" Clint called into the living room.

Two heads poked over the backrest of the sofa and Peter cracked a grin.

"Yea?" they both said in unison.

"Dinner's up," Clint answered. The two kids cheered, only to be silenced by Laura, who reminded them of Nathaniel. They both calmed, looking annoyed with their little brother and his stealing of their celebration.

Peter glimpsed at Clint, who gave a nod of approval, so Peter set the plate in the drying rack and made his way to the table. The table was rectangular, three chairs on one side, two on the other side, and one on each end.

Peter took a chair on the side with three to choose from, on Pietro's right. He wasn't sure about Pietro, but he was willing to _try_ to make some sort of…friendship? No, really just anything more than a glare-off. Wanda sat on Pietro's other side. Laura sat at one end of the table, next to Wanda. Lila and Cooper sat together, Lila on Laura's left, Cooper on Lila's left. Clint sat at the other end of the table, in-between Peter and Cooper.

Pietro sat up as everyone began eating, and Peter tried not to stare as Wanda placed some chicken on his plate and he simply poked at it with his fork, one arm still wrapped around his stomach.

Clint went for the mashed potatoes right away, swiping them right before Cooper could.

"Save some for me!" begged Cooper frantically as Clint shoveled potatoes on his plate.

Clint gave his popular smirk, peering over at his son. "I'm gonna eat them all! They'll be none left for you, ya punk."

Cooper broke out in a large smile. He grabbed at the potatoes. "No! _I'm_ going to eat all of them before _you_ get any!"

They continued their tousle, Wanda and Laura smiling at them from across the table. Lila was working hard on trying to gulp down all of her apple juice in one chug, it appeared. Peter watched in interest, sticking a forkful of chicken breast into his mouth. He swallowed it as side conversation began with:

"So, Little Man, I hear you broke the tire swing while I was gone?" Clint looked pointedly at Cooper, the always-returning tired smile popping up once again.

"It was an accident!" Cooper explained quickly, eyebrows shooting up.

"It's okay, buddy," Clint reached over and ruffled Cooper's hair, earning a wide beam from the brunette son. "We'll hike out there tomorrow and fix it, how does that sound?" Clint continued.

"Yea!" Cooper cheered.

"But what about coyote?" marveled Lila.

"Coyote?" Clint grumbled, annoyance clear on his face.

Lila pouted. "It ate the white-spotted chicken. She was my favorite."

Laura frowned, "Hey, it's okay honey, we—"

/Peter?/ Peter startled, blocking out Laura and nearly dropping his fork. What was that? It sounded like a voice. He was crazy. He was going crazy.

/You're not crazy. Look up./

Peter lifted his head, glancing around the table as discreetly as he could. Wanda was gazing over at him. She raised her eyebrows when he met her eyes.

 _Wanda?_ He felt ridiculous. Thinking a question as if Wanda would—

/Yes./

Peter choked. He quickly picked up his napkin and coughed into it repeatedly. The Bartons paused their conversation, looking at him questionably. He waved them off. "I'm— _cough_ —I'm fine." He assured them between coughs. Nods went around the table and the conversation—which seemed to have changed to the topic of Cooper's dirty room—continued.

 _Can I…um…can I help you?_ Peter thought uncertainly, unable to stop himself from looking up at her again. He cleared his throat as the coughing fit finished.

/I'm sorry for Pietro's attitude./

 _Oh…okay_. _I mean, thanks._

/He's just protective. He won't say it, but he's thankful to have someone else to talk to./

Pietro furrowed his brows at this. _You know, in order to talk to someone, you actually have to talk to them._ He thought playfully.

/Ah…/ Wanda paused. /He will…eventually./

 _Huh._

/I know, he doesn't seem like that kind of person, but—/

"Peter?" Peter looked up quickly to see Clint, Laura, Cooper and Lila looking at him anxiously. "You okay, kid?" Clint questioned with a raised brow.

Peter gave a small nod. "Ah, yea, I'm fine. Sorry. It's the concussion, I think…" he lied.

Laura perked up, "I think we have some Tylenol in the bathroom. Cooper," the boy looked up from his plate. "Could you go grab Peter a—"

"No, no, I'm fine," Peter interrupted. "It's just a small headache. It'll go away in a few minutes."

"Are you sure?" Laura repeated.

"Yea, yea, it's part of the, ah, the…" Peter stopped and gestured to himself. "The spider thing."

Clint raised both brows. Meanwhile, Wanda was looking at Pietro intently and Peter quickly realized they must be chatting internally, like he and Wanda had just finished.

"So, what is the 'spider thing'?" inquired Clint, making quotes with his fingers on the words 'spider thing'. "I mean, Steve told me it was wall-crawling and web-shooting. There's more?" he almost looked confused, like someone taking a complex math test where the questions kept getting harder.

"I can't actually shoot webs," Peter admitted. Now Clint looked lost. "Well, okay, I can, but not really." Not helping, the brief moment of puzzled silence proved that.

"Alright, alright, let me start over. I can't shoot webs _from_ my wrists, but I _made_ my webs and then made these devices that _attach_ to my wrists. They shoot the web-fluid when I push a certain button." He subconsciously pressed his middle and ring finger to his palm and flicked his wrist, showing the motion he usually did to fire a web. "The wall crawling is actually me. That came with the Spider DNA. I also heal faster than your average person (kinda the reason why I'm not in unexplainable pain every step I take), and I have this thing where…uh…it's hard to explain." He sighed. "I get this sort of a feeling. Like a gut-feeling. Like, um, have you ever just felt like something bad was gonna happen?" he asked, trying to make it easier for the kids.

Cooper and Lila bobbed their heads, eyes as wide as saucers, mouths agape. Clint gave a stiff nod and Laura gave a slightly slower one.

"Sorta like that," Finished Peter.

Clint blinked, "Huh."

 _ **~AVENGERS~**_

The rest of dinner had been comfortable table talk. Clint talked about a time when Natasha and he had gone on an undercover mission in London. Apparently Fury had discovered some detective and was looking into making him a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. The guy—Sherman?—and his friend—Watson?—had both declined the offer, and had also (according to Clint) figured out Clint and Natasha were not who they said they were (their undercover names had been Samson and Lily Fredrick) on the first day. 'He was a witty one' as Clint had said.

Pietro had a short good-spot near the end of dinner, during which he and Clint bantered for a while about something that had Pietro had done during a fight with the Avengers. This led to Peter asking about why Pietro was _fighting_ the Avengers, which went on to Wanda telling him that they previously helped Ultron. Apparently, Ultron was the killer humanoid robot Peter had seen on the news. As cleanup began, the conversation continued.

"So, why weren't you there?" Clint inquired with a raised brow as he picked up an empty bowl off the table and carrying it over to the sink, where Wanda had begun dishes, using her powers (which turned out to be a lot more than mind-speak and snooping out Peter's mind) to assist her and get three or four done at a time. "In Sokovia, I mean."

Peter laughed to himself. It wasn't extraordinary. "Ah…to be honest?" He looked up with a grin. Clint nodded, with a curious smirk. Wanda gave a smile of interest, and Pietro (his good-spot wearing off) looked up with tired eyes.

"I couldn't afford a plane ticket…" Peter admitted, looking up with an embarrassed grin.

Clint barked out a laugh. Laura laughed quieter, but just as much. Wanda only laughed a bit before she held a hand on her mouth, trying to stop it as Peter's face ran bright red and chuckled a bit to himself. Cooper and Lila were heading upstairs to get their pajamas on, but peeked over the stairway railing with interested smiles. Even Pietro shook his head and laughed a bit, as if to say 'you've got to be kidding me'.

"Sorry I missed it," Peter continued.

"Don't be, it was hell," Clint side-smirked, although Peter swore he saw some deeper meaning hiding in the older man's eyes. "I wouldn't have made if not for that brat." He jerked his head at Pietro, whose smile had faded and was now staring off at something Peter couldn't see.

Peter looked up in alarm a few seconds later, at the sound of a screeching chair.

Pietro sent an apologetic look to Laura. "I'm going to bed."

Clint frowned. "Sorry, kid, I didn't mean to—"

"It's not you," Pietro shook his head.

Pietro limped away without another word, leaving the rest of the group in guilty silence. Well, everyone except Peter. He was still confused. What had Pietro done? Not to brag or anything, but he was far from an idiot. He'd pieced together what he could.

Clint was going to die via _. Pietro had saved him by _. It had earned him a series of unseen injuries and a whole lot of pain. Also it was bad enough that his sister was always tailing him, and constantly asking if he was alright. Not to mention that he struggled up stairs, and was out of breath half of the time.

God. What had he done to himself?

Clint was beginning to stand, looking at Wanda in a silent plea for her to sit down and relax, and that he'd handle it.

"I can…uh…I can go check on him…" said Peter awkwardly. Clint raised an eyebrow in a dead 'You?' stare.

"What?" Peter demanded with a shrug, as he then realized the rest of the table were either matching, or trying very hard not to match, the look on Clint's face. Peter peered over to Wanda. He gave her a lopsided smile. "Building friendships and all, right?" Wanda answered with a reluctant nod.

Peter wiped his mouth with his napkin, set it on the table and rose. He pushed his chair back in and lifted his head back to the family. Peter let out a breathy laugh. "Don't worry. I got it." He turned his back to the family and entered the living room. "No trust." He muttered as he left.

Reaching the staircase, he slowed his pace. Pleasant conversation had restarted as Laura, Clint and Wanda tidied the table and cleaned up dinner. The throbbing in Peter's head was continuing, and he was debating grabbing that Advil that Laura had mentioned.

Peter reached the top of the stairs, the last stair creaking under his foot. Passing the upstairs hall-bathroom, he spotted Cooper and Lila brushing their teeth and gave a wave. They returned with bright grins.

"Hey, which one is Pietro's room?" Peter asked uncertainly.

Lila adjusted her toothbrush, "The one in the back." She said, meanwhile Cooper was spitting out directions, toothpaste filling his mouth.

"Okay," Peter nodded. "Thanks." He gave another smirk at Cooper and the boy attempted smiling back, immediately regretting it and bowing his head into the sink to spit.

Peter hit the side of his right fist on his left palm, and then his left fist on his right palm, continuing the small pattern, and glancing around, "Pietro's room, Pietro's room, Pietro's room." He muttered to himself, as if calling a dog.

Finally he came upon a closed wooden door. The only closed door in the hallway. Peter came close to the door, tilting his head so his ear was near touching the clean oak. He tapped his knuckles against the hard surface. "Pietro?" he called doubtfully.

No response came and Peter pressed his lips into a thin line, pondering his options. With a sigh he opened the door with a small creak. "Pietro, I—"

Peter lifted his head to see Pietro looking into a full-body mirror. The White Haired Speedster had lifted his shirt, pinching the hem between his teeth. Thick gauze bandages tangled around his torso, faint spots of blood in some places, Pietro poked at the wounds with a wince, examining them in the mirror.

Peter gaped. _CrapCrapCrap_ , _not supposed to see that. Did NOT get permission,_ he cursed silently. Peter didn't get another thought, because Pietro looked up in the mirror, catching Peter's reflection, and his eyes blew wide.

Peter sputtered. "Ah—sorry—"

" _Ce naiba?!_ " Pietro released his shirt. Ah, right, this probably didn't look great. Peter probably looked like a freaking Peeping Tom.

Peter gawked at Pietro's expression, "This isn't—I'm not a—sorry—"

Oh God. _StupidStupidStupid. No answer means DON'T KNOCK you IDIOT._

Peter floundered, covering his eyes with one hand. _Close the door! CLOSETHEDOOR! CLOSEITYOUIDIOT!_ His brain screamed. "Sorry—I didn't—sorry—" He fuddled for the door, and parted his middle and ring finger, peeking through with one eye. Pietro's eyebrows were furrowed, mouth opened slightly, like he couldn't grasp Peter's stupidity. "Sorry—it's really not—this looks bad—Ah—I—" Peter scrambled again.

With no regard of his enhanced strength, Peter slammed the door shut in a mad panic. The doorknob ripped from its place and the door twisted off of its hinges with a loud crack. Peter, hand still over one eye, doorknob in hand, stared, frozen, at the twisted door. It leaned on an angle in the doorway, only the bottom hinge still attached.

Pietro was face-palming now, looking aggravated. The Speedster walked up to Peter, trying to get a read on him. Peter frowned again, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

Peter held out the doorknob to the older boy. There was a moment of awkward silence, Peter looking stuck halfway between a smile and a frown, and Pietro unsure of whether he should be really angry or really violated.

"Sorry," Peter repeated again pathetically.

"Hey Old Man!" Pietro cawed loudly, his voice a bit ragged. He tilted his head at Peter.

"What?" came Clint's annoyed reply.

"My door is broken!"

"What?! Are you kidding me?!"

Peter heard footsteps, but his body still wasn't cooperating, doorknob clutched tightly in one hand, other hand now at his side. Clint was on his way up the stairs. "Don't tell me you broke the stupid lock again!" He swung around the stairs-railing. "If I've told you once, I've told you—" Peter turned to Clint, and Clint blinked back.

The Archer began walking towards the two teens, speed increasing with each step, "What the ffff—" Clint managed to turn it into a hum, "You little bas—"

Peter flicked his eyes to the bathroom as Lila and Cooper poked their heads out.

Clint scowled, "—ket."

Pietro snorted, rolling his eyes. He crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe.

"Daddy, why is Pietro a basket?" Lila inquired with a rising eyebrow.

"Don't worry about it, sweetie, just keep getting ready for bed," Clint urged, casually blocking her view of the dismantled door.

The children gave a nod, Clint giving them an easing grin, and returned to the bathroom. Clint spun around.

"What the _hell_ kid?!" he whisper-shouted.

"I'm sorry," Peter sputtered shortly. He held the doorknob out to Clint.

Clint paused again, blinking, and then took it slowly.

"You neglected to mention your _super-strength_ ," reminded Clint, glancing between the knob and Peter.

"Ah..." Peter trailed off into a misplaced laugh. "Yea…sorry about that…"

Clint released a sigh, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. "I hate you Stark. I don't know how, but somehow this is your fault."

Peter cringed in a guilty manor. He was grounded for sure. Could Clint ground him? Well, he'd ground himself if not.

"It's fine," said Clint eventually. He held the knob up. "I can fix it tomorrow." A slow smile reappeared on the Avenger's face. He set his free hand on Peter's shoulder.

He turned his eyes to Pietro. "And you, you white haired brat," he greeted. The name-calling seemed to be on good terms, because they both shared a gaze. "I swear, if you break something again, I'm gonna—"

Pietro's response was quick, "I'm sure Laura approves of your plan? Hm, Old Man?" He gave a devilish smirk. _Ooh…calling in Laura_ , Peter chimed internally, the corners of his lips quirking upwards as he saw Clint's flustered face.

Clint fingered the doorknob again as he began walking backwards down the hall, away from the boys. "She won't be here forever."

"She's not dying anytime soon," retorted Pietro.

"Nah, of course not, but Lila and Cooper hafta get to school, and Yoga won't take itself," it was Clint's turn to smile like the Grim Reaper.

Pietro paled, eyebrows furrowing at his lost battle.

Clint reached the end of the hallway and turned around the railing, onto the staircase.

"Don't break anything, Old Man!" Pietro snapped loudly.

"45 and still sexy!" Clint retorted with a laugh.

Pietro grumbled.

"So…" Peter began after a bit.

"Pietro Maximoff." Pietro stated. He didn't hold out his hand, or nod, or really any greeting. He just gave Peter a friendly smirk, the first, if Peter remembered correctly (which he did).

"Peter Parker."

Pietro chuckled again, shaking his head. "Pietro and Peter! Fighting crime and fixing doors!"

 **Eh? Good? Bad? Thanks for all the kind reviews! Thanks so much to** _ **Jesuslovesmarina**_ **because she's a new reader (to my stories, anyways) X) And thanks to all my closer friends. :)**

 **Btw, the translation for Pietro's Sokovian was: "What the hell?!" XD**

 **To answer** _ **AwesomeGirl909**_ **'s question: You'll have to wait and see if there's any romance. ;) But yea! The Bromance will be BROUGHT!**

 **And that Sherlock reference though. Yea, I watch that, for anyone who cares.**

 **What did everyone think of the Mental Conversation between Wanda and Peter? And what about that Pietro/Peter bromance? Hmm? Let me know! I love reviews! Please let me know how I'm doing with the characters, again, its my first Avengers fic!**

 **See—er…write y'all next time. XD**

 **-AsgardianGrizzly**

 **Ps. David Bowie (not a writer, but still a very inspirational person) passed away, so imma dedicate this chapter to him, because his music was amazing. RIP David Bowie: Jan 8, 1947 – Jan 10, 2016**


	5. Holes in the Mind and Body

Chapter 4-

 **Super sorry for the late update! Unfortunately I fell under the weather. :( Slowly recovering, so updates should return. :)**

 **Thanks so much to everyone for the follows, favs and the** _ **reviews!**_ **Seriously, they really do encourage me to write more! So thank you to everyone that reviewed, new friends and old. :)**

 **To** _ **Guest**_ **: I promise, Peter and Pietro will be sharing a strong bromance. I like to think they have a love/hate relationship. X)**

 **Now then, shall we?**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel (unfortunately)**

 **WARNING for violence and blood and bloody description and my messed up mind.** **Also, this is a story about Clint Barton, Peter Parker and Pietro** _ **freaking**_ **Maximoff. There's gonna be dirty jokes.**

 _Clint Barton_

Clint hadn't been wrong. Laura had left early this morning, Cooper, Nathaniel and Lila in tow. According to Laura, she would drop the kids off at school (apart from Nathaniel, who went with her), go to yoga, meet with some friends, pick the kids up, and then return back home. Wanda, who had never participated in a yoga class before, joined the trip. This left Peter and Pietro in the house with Clint.

Of course, Clint couldn't possibly stay in the house all day. So he'd ventured outside to the old barn. One of the loft's roof supports had snapped, so he promised Laura he'd fix it. The kids loved it up there, playing games in the loft practically every day. One of their favorites was a game they called 'S.H.I.E.L.D.' in which Cooper role-played as "Mr. Commander Nick Fury Sir" and Lila jumped around beating up invisible assailants as "Auntie Nat when she's scary".

Clint pulled himself up the wooden ladder, a tool belt around his waist and a collection of wooden planks under one arm. He set them on the loft floor and heaved himself upwards, beginning to reinforce the support beams holding up the barn roof. The task was completed before Clint knew it, and he found himself feeling like no time had passed.

That observation was proved wrong when his watch started bleeping. He clicked the alarm button on its side and glanced at the time. _12:00._ Noon. Time for Pietro's meds. Clint began his decent back down the ladder. It had become a cycle. He had been left in charge of Pietro's medication after he agreed to be responsible for the teenager. Usually, Wanda could handle it, but obviously she wasn't here at the moment, so he was left to tend to the Sarcastic Speedster.

He closed his eyes as he walked towards the farmhouse, letting out a relaxed sigh and tuning out everything. Ironically, the Hawk's proclaimed bird's eye wasn't needed at his house. He'd memorized every step, every pathway, every field, every tree, every root, and every animal. He knew this place like the back of his hand. Every detail etched into his mind. He knew that the house was thirty-two steps away, and lessening. One of the horse's fields was fifteen feet to his left, and the other horse's field was ten feet to his right. He knew that—

Clint's eyes snapped open as his foot caught on something (something that was _not_ usually there) and he went tumbling forwards, quickly resetting his footing. Spinning around, Clint looked down to see an abandoned bag of chicken feed laying in the middle of the driveway.

"What the hell—?" Clint grumbled, tuning everything back in.

"Don't let go!" a thick accent shouted.

"Easy for you to say!" came the frantic reply.

Did he dare look? Sigh. He had to.

Clint turned to his right, looking at one of the horse fields.

Quiver was a brilliant chestnut stallion.

With a temper.

And a strong disliking of strangers.

The strangers: two teenagers, one with eye-catching white hair, and the other with a flurry of deep brown hair. Clint deflated when he saw the position they were in. Quiver was galloping in a wide circle, around the _outside_ of his fenced in field. The gate to the field had been broken in half ( _much like Pietro's door_ , Clint remembered bitterly), and was getting reattached by a stressed Sokovian boy.

Pietro was trying to figure out a way to reassemble the gate, but gave up as Clint watched, instead turning back to Peter. "This is all your fault!" he glowered.

Peter was clinging to Quiver's side, using what Clint assumed were his powers, because nothing was holding the teenager on except his hands and feet pressed to the horse's pelt and saddle. The spider had the poor horse in almost a bear hug, clinging to Quiver like a baby monkey would to its mother.

"How— _ow_ —is this my— _ow_ —fault?!" demanded Peter loudly, grunting every time Quiver took another bound.

"You wanted to ride the stupid horse!"

" _You_ — _ow_ —said it was— _ow_ —a good idea!"

Clint snapped out of his daze as Quiver began what must have been his tenth tangled loop around the field, and Peter shifted further towards the ground, grip diminishing.

"What is going on?!" called the Archer as he ran up to the two—well, to the one still-standing teenager.

Pietro turned, throwing a hand at Peter. " _He_ wanted to ride the horse!"

Peter immediately argued, " _He_ — _ow_ —said it was— _ow_ —a good idea!" he stressed angrily.

Clint let out another aggravated huff before getting into his Hawkeye mode. "You alright?" he snapped at Pietro, eyeing the droplets of blood staining through _his_ — _Clint's_ not Pietro's!—flannel. Pietro gave a stiff nod, to which Clint nodded back.

Clint paused, waiting for Quiver to come back around. Pietro watched him with furrowed brows, curiously boring holes into the back of Clint's head. Peter watched him with a bobbing head, wondering exactly what the Archer was planning.

Clint waited at the front of the gate until Quiver was a few feet away, and then slowly began to jog after him. Peter lifted his head, peering at Clint from the opposite side of the horse. The kid had somehow managed to get a saddle on Quiver, the stirrups (where you put your feet) smacking into Peter's face with the horse's movements.

Clint reached up, grabbing the saddle's horn and—in one large leap for farmer/superhero kind—hoisted himself upwards, vaulting onto the saddle. His right leg came in contact with Peter, who received a foot to the face, but Clint focused on slowing the horse.

Collecting the reins in one hand, he pulled back, cawing "Whoa! Whoa!" to the horse. He reached down with his other, yanking Peter from Quiver's side up onto the saddle behind him. Peter nearly passed out from exhaustion, but gave a bright eyed smile. If Clint wasn't so focused on what punishment the two living embodiments of immaturity would receive, he would almost smile back.

Clint, Peter and Quiver trotted past Pietro into the field. Dismounting and offering a hand to Peter, Clint began removing Quiver's saddle and reins. He picked both materials up and led the way back outside the fence, Peter in tow. Pietro was waiting, looking as if he had just seen the Hulk in a tutu.

"You good, brat? Or did Quiver hit your head on his way out?" belittled the Avenger as he leaned the broken gate where it usually went, Peter promising to web it back together in a bit.

Pietro blinked out of his daze, his scowl returning. " _Quiver_? Obviously you're not winning an award for creativity."

"Don't hate," the Archer snapped back.

Clint began walking back to the house, dropping the saddle and reins off at the barn. Pietro and Peter wandered behind him, bantering back and forth about whose fault it was. Clint could sense them both—yea, you too, ya brat—flicking their eyes at him nervously.

They were both aware that they wouldn't be getting off easy.

At the same time, Clint couldn't punish them too hard. He'd have to hear what exactly their intentions were first, and the injuries put a dent in any punishments he had originally planned. Peter was cringing with each step, and Clint could see the blossoms of red forming on Pietro— _his_ —flannel.

Slowing down to a saunter and ending up in-between the two teens, Clint threw an arm over both of their shoulders. Pietro immediately reached to shove it away, before stopping himself and letting his arms drop again. Peter glimpsed at Pietro and then allowed Clint's arm to stay as well.

 _ **~AVENGERS~**_

"You two care to explain?" Clint inquired, reaching up to the bathroom medicine cabinet and pulling out a case of syringes and medication. The trio had ventured to the upstairs bathroom, passing Pietro's splintered door on the way (Peter had frowned guiltily at it). Now, Pietro sulked, sitting on the closed toilet seat, gaunt as a ghost, and Peter rolled over to face Clint from his current position, curled up in the freestanding white bathtub, clutching his side.

Neither answered, Pietro glaring at Clint, head resting on hand, and Peter holding his tongue, gazing up at the Archer with the eyes Bruce had when he got nervous, eyes that were trying to get a read on anything they could.

"Huh? Brat? Kid? Sometime this week would be nice," prodded Clint as he prepped the needle used to administer Pietro's meds. Setting down the needle and starting to whip up the drug-filled concoction he was told to use on Pietro every two hours, Clint raised an eyebrow and turned back to the boys expectantly.

Peter sighed, realizing Pietro either didn't want to or couldn't speak because of his condition. "So, I got up a couple hours ago and went downstairs for breakfast. I don't know what it was, and I'm pretty sure it's actually Cooper's, but I had some of that sugary cereal with the free stickers inside, and then we both kinda…got bored…" he paused, fidgeting until he was comfortable and letting out a wheeze because of his busted ribs. "So, anyways, I saw your list-thing on the fridge—you know, the to-do list—and I figured we could maybe help out with some of the stuff, because it looked like you had a lot on your plate."

Clint looked back at him, skeptical. "And you saw 'cling to the side of the horse and argue with each other' on there?"

"You know we didn't, Old Man," snapped Pietro. He scrubbed his face with both hands, running his pale hands through sweaty white hair. Clint filled the syringe with the murky liquid and tested the needle. Pietro stuck his arm out as Peter continued.

"We saw 'clean Quiver'. Pietro said that the horse's name…" Peter explained, attempting a shrug, and then accomplishing a cringe.

There was a silence, in which Peter clambered to his knees and helped Clint roll up Pietro's sleeve. Clint double checked that he was poking the right place before sliding the needle in and pressing the plunger. Pietro visibly relaxed, but kept his palms pressed into his eyes.

Clint gave a long sigh. "Obviously it wasn't clear that I am an _archer_." He said through gritted teeth. Peter looked down at his feet, as if saying 'oh…'. "I didn't mean the horse, I meant _my_ quiver. I have to clean _my_ quiver. Not the _horse_."

"How were we supposed to know?" muttered Pietro.

"Come on, brat, knowing that I'm an archer, who would then assume I meant the horse?"

"Us…" murmured Peter.

Clint rolled his eyes and turned back to the medication. He loaded up another syringe with painkillers and bent down next to the tub. It was tight with the three of them in there. He took Peter's arm and injected the vaccine into the kid's veins.

Peter grimaced at the needle. Clint knew the feeling. No one liked needles. Who would? Even the concept is creepy: a tiny piece of metal pushing through your skin, breaking open a vein and releasing mysterious drugs into your system. Yea, doesn't it sound great, kids?

Heaving both teens to their shaky feet, he shoved them in front of himself and herded them out the door and into the hallway. The three made their way down the hall to the stairs, and limped their way down those too. Clint walked into the kitchen, patting Lucky on the head on the way, and began preparing lunch.

Peter followed him in, and Clint heard a screech as Peter pulled out a chair and sat down. Pietro took his own chair, resting his head on the table like Clint had seen way to many times, eyes blinking drowsily.

He wouldn't tell the brat, but he tended to slip sedatives into the concoction that he fed through Pietro's bloodstream. Not always, just when Clint knew the kid'd been up all night. The Avenger had experience with nightmares. Loki didn't clean up after he left Clint's mind, leaving imagines of bloody corpses stained everywhere. He shuddered at the thought. The Archer had experience with others' nightmares as well.

Tony got nightmares all the time, so did Natasha. Bruce. Steve. Thor. Wanda. It sort of came with the job. Pietro was no exception.

Taking his mind off of the daunting thoughts, Clint pulled out some fresh Italian hoagies that a friend of Laura's had gotten her as a congratulations gift for Nathaniel. Then, reaching into the fridge, Clint pulled out some fresh turkey, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, and some onions. He put together some slightly lopsided deli sandwiches and stuck them onto some plates, bringing them over to the table.

Halfway through lunch, Pietro got to his feet, leaving half a sandwich on the table, and flopped onto the couch, snoring within the next minute. Peter finished up his sandwich in silence. As Clint finished, Peter looked over his shoulder at Pietro and then spoke up.

"Clint, what happened in Sokovia?"

Clint stopped mid-bite. He finished. He didn't ask that. Did he? No. He didn't. If he did then Clint wouldn't answer. Not now. _Bullets rained down on the dirt._ Nope. _The boy clutched the fabric of his armor._ No. _Pietro ran forwards._ NopeNopeNope. _Clint looks up. Pietro stares back._ NoNoNoNoNoNo.

Clint took a deep breath, standing up quickly and taking his plate over to the kitchen. He set the plate and half eaten sandwich on the counter. He clutched the edge of the sink with a white-knuckled grip. He had it under control. He was fine last night. He'd be fine now. He was fine. All good. No problem. Problem. There was a problem. ProblemProblemProblem.

Breathing fast, Peter calling his name somewhere at the end of a tunnel, Clint staggered to the stairs.

"Clint?" Peter's voice echoed. "Clint, what happened? What's wrong?"

Suddenly he was upstairs, slamming into the wall and stumbling to his bedroom. Everything sped up. _Gunfire hit the ground._ And then everything was in slow motion. _Pietro looked him dead in the eyes._ Memories played on loop. _Gunfire echoed through the air._ But Clint was fine. _This time it hit Clint dead on._ Not really. _Pietro stared at him in horror as he was riddled with bullets._ He was okay. _Blood leeched onto the dead boy in his arms._ No. He was not okay. _Clint fell forwards, dead._ Very not okay.

Footsteps stomped up the stairs behind him, and he tripped into his bedroom, landing on his hands and knees. _DeadDeadDead._ Slamming the door with his foot, Clint reached up and locked it. _Blood. Bullets. Dead._ Breathing haggardly, Clint fuddled with the pocket on his jeans, pulling out phone.

He hastily scrolled through his contacts, Peter knocking on the door worriedly and calling his name, the noise a dull throb in Clint's ears. _Gunfire threw up gravel._ Clicking the contact he was looking for, Clint brought the phone to his ear. _Pietro's dead. He's dead. The boy's dead. Natasha's dead. Laura's dead._ He ran his free hand through his hair and left it on his head.

Clint closed his eyes. _Gunfire cut through him._ Closing his eyes was a mistake, he opened them again. _Pietro stared back at him, bleeding red tears trailing down his face._ The phone rang in his ear. _The gunfire grew closer._ Clint huffed uneven breaths. _White hair stained red._ Time dragged on. _Gunfire hit the ground and—_

"Clint?"

"Natasha," Clint breathed.

"Clint, are you alright?" she demanded from the other side of the phone.

"Mm…" he bit his lip. _Bullet holes._ "Been better."

"Clint, what happened?"

"Peter—" he broke off panting. "Peter asked about Sokovia."

"Shit," Natasha cursed, probably not meaning for him to hear it, but he did. "Okay, Clint, I need you to take deep breaths."

Clint tried. He really did. _Gunfire_ he breathed _Holes_ he breathed _Pietro_ he breathed _Gunfire_. Clint breathed. He slowed it down. It was in the past. _Pietro was fine_ , he closed his eyes. _Pietro is rushed to a medical unit_. He took a breath. _Pietro was back on his feet_. He let out a sigh. _Pietro was catching a horse with Peter_.

"Back with me?" asked Natasha uncertainly.

"Yea, yea, I'm back," nodded Clint. He let out another shaky breath. There was a lengthy silence between the two. Clint found Natasha's presence reassuring. "I don't wanna tell him." He finally announced.

"That's fine, Clint. You don't have to yet," soothed the assassin.

"But I will." He reaffirmed.

"Be careful. And call me if you need anything."

"Yea."

"I was just being nice. Don't call me for this stuff. Bruce is more equipped for these things."

Clint aloud a smile to come on his face, knowing she was joking. He sighed again, peering out a window across the room.

"Thanks Nat."

"Goodb—"

A beeping interrupted the phone call. Clint removed his phone from his ear, looking at the screen. An alert from S.H.I.E.L.D. popped up in a white icon on the screen. "You getting this?" he asked tiredly.

"Just got it. Looks like it's gonna be long term."

"Fan-freaking-tastic," puled the Archer.

"I'll see you there."

"Yup…" this time the sigh was from annoyance. "Adios."

"Bye."

He must have been there for a while, because his back ached and he was cramped from sitting so long. Or maybe he was just getting old. Either way. Clint got to his feet, using the door for support. Some joint cracked on his way up. Putting the phone back in his pocket, Clint unlocked the door and stepped out.

Peter had perched himself back on the wall, in-between two bedroom doors (his and Wanda's). The teen had found Clint's old Rubik's Cube and was fuddling with it endlessly.

Clint frowned uneasily. "I'm assuming you want an explanation."

"That'd be nice, yea," Peter didn't move his eyes from the cube, not once.

"Alright, kid, I'm not gonna give you the full rundown because honestly, as you just saw, I'm not quite past the flashback stage yet." He paused. Peter lifted his gaze to the Avenger. "I will say this: some pretty nasty shit went down in Sokovia. I'm sure you heard the name Ultron?"

Peter gave a nod. "On the News…but they never said much. Said it was a S.H.I.E.L.D. A.I. gone wrong."

Clint laughed at that. Was that the cover story? A S.H.I.E.L.D. artificial intelligence? Wow. "Yea…sort of…" he nodded. "So…" Deep breaths Barton. "In simplicity: we took out Ultron by destroying his plan to blow up the world."

"When Sokovia flew, yea I remember that part," nodded Peter, jumping down from his perch.

"I was one of the last people on that great big flying rock, and Ultron was a very unhappy robot." Peter frowned. "A very unhappy robot with a machine gun. He tried to take me out, but—" Clint practically snarled at the memories, shoving them into an invisible closet. "—Pietro was there."

Peter's eyes narrowed in realization. "Pietro took a bullet for you?"

" _Bullets,_ actually," Clint corrected, earning a surprised reaction. "Pietro took seven bullets to the chest, two to his left arm, one to right, one to his right hand and five to his legs. Three on the left, two on the right."

Peter was in shocked silence. Clint's hands were shaking. " _But_ , that brat's got some freakish metabolism going on, and a sorceress for a sister. So he survived. In all honesty, his pulse was so thin I thought he was dead. He died for forty eight seconds, and then Wanda jump-started his heart with her powers, and his metabolism (and, you know, S.H.I.E.L.D. intensive care) took care of the rest."

Peter stared intently at the floor. He opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped, eyes widening at something over Clint's shoulder. Clint turned around. _Pietro stated back, riddled with holes._ He blinked. Pietro stood, one hand on the stairway railing, looking up at the two other men with half-lidded eyes.

Clint scratched the back of his neck. He felt guilty. It was probably the wrong decision. It wasn't his place to tell Peter. He should've thought this through. "Listen, brat, I—"

"He was going to find out some time," dismissed Pietro with a sigh. "He already saw my injuries."

Clint's eyes went wide. What? No. Pietro wasn't—and Peter wasn't—Peter had a _girlfriend_. Bisexual? No. Was he? And what about Pietro? Clint didn't actually know. Did they? And when? Jesus Christ they better not have. Not in the guest bedroom. Any of the guest bedrooms. Christ no. He'd given Pietro his nice jersey sheets. And he thought Peter liked—he was wrong. Was he _that_ wrong? He—

"Relax, Old Man," scoffed Pietro with an eye roll. "Not like _that_."

Peter caught on quickly. His eyebrows shot upwards and he held up both hands, "Woah—wait! No, no, no. I'm not—and he's—that's—" the teen's face flushed red and Clint deflated.

"Oh thank God," the Archer muttered.

Clint closed his eyes, not seeing as a sly smirk crept onto the Sokovian's face. "That's for tomorrow."

Clint choked mid-sigh and Peter let out a startled 'What?!' Pietro snickered and Clint realized that was the first time he'd heard Pietro actually laugh in a while. Or legitimately smile for that matter. Pietro made his way down the stairs at a faster pace than usual, laughing the whole way.

Peter looked at Clint anxiously.

"He was kidding…right?"

 **Ta da! Haha. I cracked myself up there. I just** _ **had**_ **to make a little flirty bromance for the Maximarker ship. Parkermoff. XD Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed the latest instalment of** _ **Moving On**_ **. This chapter had a lot of variety…XD From horses to panic attacks.**

 **I'm hoping to make the next chapter from Pietro's POV, which should be interesting. ;) So yea, this chapter was Clint-centric because I wanted everyone to know that it wasn't just gonna be about Peter. Pietro and Clint are gonna dance under that spotlight to! :D**

 **Thanks again for your reviews, follows and favs! They are very much appreciated! Thank ya all! So what was up with that S.H.I.E.L.D. mission? You ask. Find out in the next chapter of** _ **Moving On**_ **!**

 **Love y'all!**

 **-AG**

 **Ps. The forty eight second death belongs to** _ **Eboni**_ **and her amazing story** _ **Walk It Off.**_ **Go check it out after you drop a review! ;)**


	6. Plane Ride to Hell

Chapter 5-

 **Thanks again for all the follows/favs! (There are so many!) And all of the reviews! You all are so sweet! :D I deeply apologize for the long wait, my life has been extremely busy, so I turned my focus to one of my other stories. I'm working hard to keep up with all of my stories now, especially with summer break here, wish me luck. :)**

 **I can't say thank you enough! You're all so sweet! So many amazing gracious reviews, all of the favorites and follows! I love you all! X) Thank you thank you thank you (x1,000,000,000,000) Special thanks to _Eboni_ for reviewing EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER! X) Thank you so much!**

 **Oh and I saw CIVIL WAR! It was amazing. Was anyone else waiting for Pietro to make a surprise appearance? Oh and that new Spiderman is pretty dang good! So, here's the thing. I'm gonna keep the cover as Andrew Garfield, but if you want to envision him as Tom Holland you can, because I actually really like him as Spiderman too. :) I just think Andrew Garfield Spiderman would get along better with Pietro.**

 **I'm really happy that you all are enjoying Parkermoff!**

 **Now then,**

 **Shall we? :)**

 _Pietro Maximoff_

Doctor's appointment. Hospital checkup. Something like that.

Pietro blearily remembered getting herded onto a Quinjet this morning. Wanda had been there, so had Peter. Clint. No Laura, Cooper, Lila or Nathaniel. Now he was sprawled out on one of the medical cots in the back of the Quinjet. He could tell by the smell of disinfectant on the fabric, and the vibrating from the engines. Although, he didn't think it was for medical reasons…he hoped not. That would suck.

Something about Clint leaving. Wanda had said something about him going to do something…

"Wanda?" he mumbled, propping himself up on both elbows and blinking away sleep.

"Uh, nope, Peter actually," said Peter awkwardly from across the room. Pietro glanced over to find the teen walking in from the cockpit. "Morning sleeping beauty." He teased with a smirk.

Pietro gave a long grumble that turned into a sigh, "Shut up," he added tiredly, dropping his head back onto the cot and rolling over, so his back was facing Peter.

"Sleep well?" prodded Peter with interest as he took a seat across from the cot. There was a long bench for seating, but it was metal and uncomfortable, so the teen perched on the wall like usual.

"I did until you woke me," answered Pietro with sore attitude.

"As if," scoffed Peter from behind him. "Clint basically threw you onto that cot and you didn't even _flinch_."

Pietro attempted another comeback only to sigh into his uncomfortable cot pillow, letting his eyes close. "Where're we?"

"Um…" Peter considered. "Over some part of New York…I think…"

Pietro reopened his eyes swiftly, rolling back over onto his back and looking at Peter with alarm. "What?!"

"New York. Big Apple. The Capital of the World. The City So Nice They Named it Twice. New York, New York. Ringin' any bells?" returned Peter in his usual awkward babble. Pietro ran a hand through his hair before heaving himself upwards onto his feet. He limped past the Arachnid and made his way into the cockpit.

"No," he stated simply.

"Pietro…" sighed Wanda.

"Brat," greeted Clint at the same time.

"Old Man," snarked Pietro. "Turn this thing around." He commanded with his best authority.

"Can't do that," replied Clint with a head shake and a long sigh.

"Turn. Around," ordered Pietro, with as much authority as he could muster.

"Cute," smirked Clint. Pietro scowled.

He didn't like this. Not at all. He _hated_ check-ups. Pietro didn't care how much they ' _saved his life'_ , he did not like them. The doctors were always so touchy and feely, wanting to prod everywhere (EVERYWHERE) and make sure it was okay up close and personal. Then they took blood samples, ran a bunch of complicated tests, drugged him up and gave him a new list of things to do or not do.

On top of all that, he might have to see Stark again. He really hated that guy. He'd indirectly killed Pietro and Wanda's parents. Blew them to who knows where. Pietro had hated him since that day: the day when he saw _Stark_ on the side of that explosive, the death sentence from the Merchant of Death himself. Since Wanda had gone silent from the shock of their parents deaths. Since she had been so torn up that she had _yelled_ at Pietro, her _brother_.

Usually the _Merchant of Death_ was there for Pietro's appointments, mainly for the reason that he was the only one really capable of fixing busted Hospital Tech in an emergency.

Oh, and did Pietro mention that Clint would be going on a mission for the next few days? It would just be Pietro, Peter, Wanda and the kids. No Laura or Clint. Why no Laura, you ask? Laura, having received a call from her sister across the country, discovered that her older brother had been in a biking accident. She was making the trip that morning, dropping the kids off at a babysitter until after the doctor's.

After this medical appointment, one of the Avengers would fly them back to the farmhouse and it would be Pietro, Wanda, Peter and a bunch of children for the next week or two. Had Pietro been asked his opinion? No. Of course not. But he'd consent. For Laura.

Not Clint.

"The appointment's only a few hours," attempted Clint with a cringe.

"No! I don't want to," growled the speedster angrily.

"Pietro, it is just a check in…" Wanda reassured. "Natasha and Steve might even make a visit."

"Wanda, no," snapped Pietro, flopping down in the third and final seat in the cockpit. It was slightly behind Clint and Wanda's seats, forming a triangle.

"Stark might not even be there."

"We're not going."

"Five minutes ETA."

"Shut up, Old Man, you don't even have to sit through the appointment. You're leaving halfway through."

"It's just a simple Clear Out mission, we go in, we battle some Hydra wimps and then we come back, safe and sound. Go in. Fight. Retreat. Go in. Fight. Retreat. Until we've pushed 'em back far enough, and/or taken them all out," explained the Archer wisely. "Just like back at the base where we first found you."

Pietro tensed. Clint knew better than to mention that. He swallowed thickly. "Except you had Dr. Banner then," The speedster pointed out slowly. He regained his composure and suddenly narrowed his eyes in realization. "And you _still_ got shot." He added as he scrubbed his hands over his face with aggravation. "This isn't safe. I don't like it."

" _Really_?" jeered Clint with a smirk. "You had me _totally_ convinced that you were on board, Speedy Gonzales."

"What is Speedy...?" Pietro raised an eyebrow. "Never mind. Just shut up." Pietro repeated for the umpteenth time.

Clint laughed.

Seeing no change in course, Pietro went to Faze 2.

" _Wanda_ …" whined Pietro, giving puppy dog eyes to his sister, and clutching his head for effect. "My head hurts…Clint is being loud…."

"Oh please!" Clint barked through another laugh.

"Brother, please, just behave yourself," huffed Wanda as she peered out the windshield into the open sky.

"What?" grumbled the speedster, dropping the act and feeling betrayed, "You're siding with _him_?"

"Of course not, I am siding with _me_."

"Yup, I'm with Wanda. Whatever it is that we're talking about, she's the most sane, I'm sure she's right," exclaimed Peter as he entered the cramped cockpit. Pietro subconsciously scooted over and Peter plopped down so that they shared a seat. Pietro didn't argue, but he wasn't exactly enjoying it.

"Of course you are," Pietro frowned with an eye roll. Peter sent Pietro a look. Clint laughed again.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" inquired Wanda with a raised eyebrow.

"Nothing _dragă mea_ ," Pietro responded with a mischievous grin sent in Peter's direction.

Clint furrowed his brows, his laughs subsiding, "Hey, wait, what _does_ that mean?" he glanced back at Peter, eyed the two boys' seating arrangement, and then continued. "I thought you and Pietro were a thing."

"What?" a startled Wanda peeped, nearly jumping out of her seat. " _Buna! Pietro! Ce vrea să spună cu asta?!_ " Pietro bored holes into Clint's chair. _Hey! Pietro! What does he mean by that?!_

"Relax, Wanda, Clint was only joking," he assured his sister irritably.

"Yea, joking, _way_ joking," Peter nodded and frowned. "—I'm straight." He added as an afterthought.

"So am I," agreed Pietro.

"Keep telling yourself that," Clint shrugged.

"Hey!" glowered Peter and Pietro as they shouted in unison.

Clint began chuckling again, "Nat's gonna love this."

Pietro scowled at that. He could practically see the rainy gray cloud stuck up above his head. That's what Wanda used to say to him as a kid. 'opri încruntăndu-se. Sau un nor gri, vei găsi o zi, frate.' _Stop frowning, or a gray cloud will find you one day, brother._

But he didn't care. He just didn't like doctor's appointments. He didn't like the idea of Clint leaving. He didn't like Tony _frigging_ Stark. The guy was an egotistical jerk. Pietro didn't care how much the guy had changed, it couldn't be enough to make him feel differently about the rich man.

And yet, here he was, drugged and kidnapped, on a plane ride to Hell.

 _ **~AVENGERS~**_

The arrival consisted of various awkward looks between the Avengers and the twins. Pietro glared at Tony, who had showed up as Pietro predicted. Tony pestered Clint. Pietro glared at Tony. Tony flirted with Natasha. Natasha shoved Tony. Pietro glared. Steve welcomed Wanda, Peter and Pietro. Pietro thanked him, but sent a cautious look in Tony's direction.

As they began into the facility, Tony walked casually over to Pietro, peering at him over the edge of ridiculous Iron Man Red aviators.

"Listen, kid, I get it, you don't like me." Tony began. Pietro bit his tongue to keep from scoffing. He pressed his lips into a tight line. "But we're gonna have to at least _tolerate_ each other for this meeting. Kay? 'Cause I really can't save your parents. Sorry, but I can't." Tony announced matter-of-factly. Pietro looked at the ground as they walked. The other Avengers were sharing light conversation. The Speedster looked pleadingly at Clint for help, but Clint wasn't paying attention. He, Wanda and Natasha were speaking in a friendly manor.

"— I'm working on changing what I do from now on," Tony continued. Pietro felt his chest tighten. He didn't like this conversation. Tony obviously didn't feel like Pietro was paying attention, because he continued to ramble. "Fundraisers. Charity autograph signings. Auctions." He paused and huffed, as if the pure _effort_ of explaining his supposed kindness was draining every last drop of energy. "I built 22 shelters for _puppies_ ," Tony was practically begging forgiveness. Pietro hadn't seen anything like it from the man before this.

Pietro turned to him, eyes hard. "You killed our parents." Pietro restated. Tony furrowed his brows, concentrating on Pietro's words. "Wanda was _broken_. She didn't speak for _3_ months." He stated strictly. Tony eyebrows twitched in surprise. Pietro studied him like a parent to child. "That was your fault." Tony flashed hurt. "I cannot forgive what you did to her." Pietro gritted out. He clenched his fists, looking away and thinking. The silver-haired young man looked back at the billionaire with all seriousness. "Maybe, _maybe_ , I could get past the fact that you _murdered_ our parents…" now it was Pietro's time to look hurt. Angry, but hurt. "But you hurt Wanda..."

Something clicked behind Tony's eyes and he seemed to understand. The two walked silently for a bit.

"You wanna know the funny thing?" he asked. Tony tilted his head ever so slightly. "Wanda is giving you another chance. She _forgave_ you." They stared at each other for a lengthy moment. Pietro silently told Stark that he was giving him one more chance. With a begrudging inhale and a sharp sigh of disbelief, Pietro pointed rigidly at Tony. "Don't screw up, asshole."

Pietro didn't spare the man another glance, picking up the pace easily and leaving Tony behind. The snide man returned to his former self easily, sending snarky comments at Clint and messing with Steve, as if none of the past five minutes had occurred.

Pietro felt a hand on his shoulder and tensed, immediately flinching away.

"That was good," Peter assured.

"Was it?" Pietro muttered. He kept his eyes trailed on the floor. His sides were still hurting him.

"Yea," Peter agreed seriously. "It was. Gave him something to think about." The two looked up in unison, peering at the back of Tony's expensive black suit.

"I never saw you as the flannel type," both Pietro and Peter startled at the sound of Natasha's voice. As it turned out, Tony had walked over and began chatting with Clint and Steve, so Natasha had maneuvered over to the two boys. Pietro swore that Russian didn't weigh anything, because her feet didn't make a sound.

"Yea, it was the Old Man's idea," Pietro huffed a laugh.

"Are you and Peter getting along?" she inquired seriously. Pietro enjoyed these conversations. It was fun to speak with Natasha. She always seemed so frightening in battle, but in reality she was quite friendly…in a…assassin…Russian…widow-y kind of way…

Pietro turned to her, only to find that the Russian spy was looking at him like he was the hardest equation in the book. "Um…yea…" He reached up and began futzing with his hair unsurely. He smirked at her, trying to relieve the looming tension. "He's very…awkward…"

"Hey," Peter elbowed him.

"You're not wrong," Natasha smirked at Peter, announcing that said tension had been released. Peter showed a mock offended look.

He continued to stride down the hall, eyes sweeping over the large building. Pietro followed his lead, peering around the large hallway. Tony Stark was rich. He could afford places like this. Pietro marveled at it. He and Wanda lived with Clint, who barely had enough money to pay for his house, and he was an _Avenger_. Natasha "lived" in an apartment in New York, but spent

"This place is huge," the two said in unison. Natasha raised an eyebrow and smirked again.

"Shut up," Pietro grumbled.

 _ **~AVENGERS~**_

Ugh.

Hospital garments were so embarrassing.

Not only was his outfit basically just a pair of compression boxers, but Pietro still felt self-conscious of his scars. Who wouldn't feel ugly with half-healed holes patterning their body? On top of that, he had stark white hair and a thick accent. Normally this wouldn't be a problem. Doctor Cho was very kind about how she spoke to Pietro and didn't judge him for his appearance, accent or injuries.

This woman, however, was not Doctor Cho.

The doctor seeing him today was some American woman with auburn hair pulled tightly back in a ponytail and, while Doctor Cho had a rounded face and Asian features, this woman had distinct cheekbones and defined characteristics. She wore a tight button up shirt showing way too much of her chest, along with a black pencil skirt and no surgeon's apron, nothing like the scrubs that Doctor Cho could always be found in. She looked more like a hooker than a doctor, if Pietro was being completely honest.

Previously, Pietro had always had his appointments in a room with a viewing window. He always felt uncomfortable during the appointments because he would look up and see Tony, Clint and usually Natasha peering back down at him with intent gazes. But this room, the one he was stowed in that day, had no viewing window.

Instead it was a relatively large room with two exits, white tile floor, light gray walls and an examination table, along with the Cradle (an invention of Doctor Helen Cho that provided both cell regeneration and medical injections necessary to Pietro's recovery). A series of cabinets lined the walls and an encouraging, very unprofessional poster of a cat hanging from a tree and saying "Hang in there!" hung nearby. Pietro sat on the Cradle's edge as the doctor began preparing the sensors.

/Pietro?/

Pietro's eyebrows raised, alert. _Yes, Wanda?_ He replied immediately. She was probably sensing his unease. He could feel hers. It felt much like the feeling that someone was lurking behind you, or right out of sight. It was bothersome and sent chills down Pietro's skin, making him feel more naked than he actually was.

/Why did they change your rooms? Is there something wrong? Did something change? Are you okay? Did the condition worsen?/ she demanded nervously. Pietro felt his sister's constant fidgeting as she paced nervously in another room.

/Please, _Soră_ , I am fine./ He insisted, the doctor gently pushed his shoulder and he eased down into the Cradle. /Although there _is_ a strange sexual doctor./ He admitted, right as the female doctor leaned over Pietro to turn on the sensors, her chest becoming uncomfortably close to his face. She paid no mind.

/Sexual?/ Wanda peeped.

/Relax Wanda, she is very unattractive./

/~ _I'm burnin' through the sky, yea! Two hundred degrees! That's why they call me Mr. Fahrenheit! I'm travelin' at the speed of light! Gonna make a supersonic man outta you…_ ~./

Pietro froze. Who was…singing…? Realization dawned on him like the morning sun. He flinched, face contorting in aggravation.

"Peter?" the speedster voiced out loud.

The female doctor looked up from the clipboard she held and blinked at him curiously. "What? No, I'm Crystal."

Pietro sighed. Of course her name was Crystal. "No, ah, sorry, not you." He waved her off.

 _Peter?_ He voiced mentally, watching as Crystal returned to her work. A large commotion could be heard in the hallway outside of the hospital room. Crystal glanced at the door, furrowed her brows, and began to walk over.

/Peter, please stop shouting and speak telepathically. I think you're scaring Clint./ Wanda sighed mentally.

/-'RE INSIDE MY HEAD!/

Pietro winced. /Shut up, Peter, we can hear you fine. You don't have to shout./

/HOW CAN YOU HEAR ME?! This is _SO_ COOL…./ Peter cheered telepathically.

/Wanda?/ Pietro directed towards his sister sternly. /Did you open the link to Peter?/

Now Pietro was confused and a little frustrated. When had Wanda spoken to Peter? What were they up to? He better not be trying anything. Pietro would punch him so fast that his head would be gone before he could say 'sorry'. The Maximoff Twin furrowed his brows and glared at a spot on the floor.

/Please, Motănel. I opened the link to Peter at dinner the other night. I just forgot to close it again./ Wanda answered sharply. Dinner? So that's when Peter had made his move? Pietro scowled. He didn't like this.

/What's that weird feeling?/ inquired Peter obliviously. /Feels like…ah, you guys ever worked really hard on a study paper and forgotten it on the day of a test? Or lost your dog? Or gotten caught wearing your costume at home? Kinda like that… _ick_. What _is_ that?/ He summed up uneasily.

/That's Pietro/ Wanda sighed.

Pietro felt Peter grimace in disgust. /What is he like…mind groping me? _Eck_. Stop./

Pietro nearly growled in alarm. /What?! I am not! I—/

/He is frustrated that I let you into our link./ interrupted Wanda.

/No I'm not./ snapped Pietro.

/You sound kinda…tense…/ frowned Peter.

/I—No. Shut up. I'm not—/

"Mr. Maximoff?" Crystal said. It must have been the third or fourth time, because she looked quite confused and a little fed up.

"Huh? Sorry, what did you…?" he asked, flushing red.

"Do you have to go to the bathroom before we begin? The scans should take about an hour," explained Crystal easily. She scribbled something on her clipboard and flipped the page. "Oh, maybe an hour and a half."

Pietro cursed internally. "No, I'm fine." He grumbled.

"Alright, you may want to close your eyes, I'll be back in a little while to check on you. If you need anything, I'll activate Thursday and she can send for us." Assured Crystal.

Pietro nodded and closed his eyes. He heard Crystal's heels click on the tile, heard her turn the lights off, and heard her exit the room. He opened his eyes once she was gone, blinking rapidly at the neon blue lights above him. The scanning machine hung over the open Cradle, a horizontal metal beam that zipped up and down the length of the Cradle. It was decorated with dim blue lights that looked oh-so-much like their creator's arc reactor. The scanner itself was run by Thursday, one of Stark's AIs.

Clint had told Pietro that story. Apparently one day, while bored at home, a twenty year old Tony Stark challenged himself to design one AI each day of the month. He only made it a week and a half, the latest model being JARVIS, when his parents died in a car accident and he was forced into becoming CEO of Stark Industries. _At least your parents weren't blown up_ , he noted sourly. The blue light zoomed across Pietro's body. He tried his best to pay no mind to it, but it was definitely a struggle.

He cussed silently as the Cradle began its procedure. It felt like someone was pinching everywhere there was a wound, and Pietro had many. It was a dull pinch that trailed into a long moment of stinging, which was subsequently ignored by the silver-haired speedster. He looked up as the light blinked again.

Raising and eyebrow and glancing around the room in boredom, Pietro thrummed his fingers on the bed of the Cradle and bounced his foot restlessly.

"Mr. Maximoff, you would earn my utmost gratitude if you were to lie still."

Pietro tensed, letting out a grunt as every wound on his injured frame protested. He gritted his teeth and furrowed his brows at the light. Then, almost rebelliously, he shifted again.

"Mr. Maximoff, please, I would like to assist you in healing your wounds." The feminine British voice scolded. Pietro wished that the AI hadn't been downloaded into the Cradle, he liked it a lot better when the machine didn't speak.

"Um…do you…mute..?" asked the Sokovian unsurely.

"No, of course not," belittled the AI. "Because that would _never_ come in handy."

Pietro scowled. Since when were AIs so sarcastic? Oh, right, its creator was the freaking inventor of sarcasm.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Crystal returned. She entered with a clipboard in hand and quickly turned a few dials on the control panel. "Alrighty, we're all done."

Pietro glowered. He wasn't a three year old.

"Let's get you wrapped up."

Pietro sat up as Crystal pulled out some bandaging. She began carefully winding it around his torso, Pietro tuning it out the process and zoning out for a bit. The Cradle always made him feel a little drowsy.

"Does everything feel okay?" Crystal inquired, finishing up as Pietro swung his legs over the side of the Cradle. He nodded in response. "Okay, I'm gonna ask you a few questions." She gave a sweet smile. "They're required. I'll make them go as fast as possible."

"Thanks," muttered Pietro distractedly. He reached over for his pants, which sat folded on a nearby table. Beginning to squirm into them, he looked back up at Crystal, who stared down at her clipboard.

"Do you—Oh my," Crystal furrowed her brows. Pietro raised an eyebrow and peered down at his chest. Small droplets of blood had already began to poke through on a few of the wounds. The bigger ones, of course, which decorated his lower torso.

"Agh," he grumbled, pressing the bandages more firmly into the wounds.

"How long has this been happening?" Crystal demanded, suddenly slipping into a serious doctor mode. She prodded his torso.

"A couple months," shrugged Pietro. "They only stopped bleeding for a month after the…" he paused, scratching the back of his neck. "You know."

"That's not…" Crystal met Pietro's eyes, portraying the message 'you're insane. This isn't normal'. Pietro looked away. He hated when people looked at him like that. Like a freak. Even the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, who were surrounded by this kind of crap, sometimes stared at him like he was some sort of creature.

"It's fine," snapped Pietro defensively, standing and snatching his shirt.

"It's not, actually," Crystal disagreed. She crossed the room and grabbed something from a cabinet. She then picked up something off of the counter, a case of some sort, and walked back over.

"These—" she held up a clear bottle of small circular white pills. "—will disintegrate in a glass of water. That should then be put into a syringe and injected with the rest of your daily injections. Speaking of which, I'm moving the injections up to three times a day, instead of two. Just do it in the morning, after lunch and now before bed." As she spoke, Crystal scribbled it all down on a piece of paper. "This—" she held up the case. "Should be enough to restock till next time. The injections will work _with_ your metabolism to heal the injuries faster and stop the bleeding. It'll still take a long time, but it'll halt the bleeding."

Pietro nodded. "Yay. More medication."

Crystal gave an understanding smile. "Sorry."

"S'fine," sighed the speedster. He slipped his shirt on and began for the door. Opening it, he muttered thanks and then, under his breath, "Just want this to be over."

 **Pietro is so whiney. XD Sorry, it was a little slow, but it was very important to get the medical issues more taken care of. ;)**

 **I just wanna say that next chapter will have more humor and a lot more Parkermoff! X) Because the boys and Wanda now have to take care of the kids! Yep. That's gonna go well. XD Meanwhile, in this chapter, Pietro and Peter flirt while Wanda freaks. Also Tony and Pietro work out their difficulties and Pietro is bullied by an AI. XD**

 **Huge huge HUGE THANKS to EVERYONE! Because you are all so sweet and you guys encouraged me to get up and write this! Because of you people I will be continuing this story and I'm not gonna let it go. I've put tons of stories on hiatus, but this one is not!**

 **Thank you for all the support and please keep reviewing on what you thought! I appreciate them and all the encouragement, compliments and support! Thank you a million times! I hope you enjoyed!**

 **See you next time!**

 **Sincerely, AsgardianGrizzly. :)**

 **Ps. The name 'Crystal' was a reference to Pietro Maximoff's comic ex-wife Crystal, the Inhuman. For any of you comic readers out there. They also have a daughter named Luna, but obviously that's not happening in this story. :)**


	7. Mac 'n Cheese

Chapter 6-

 **Welcome back to _Moving On!_ Yea, life's been busy. I don't even know why. I don't want it to get into it, it just is. Bleh. It sucks. Well. Most of the time. I saw a concert. X)**

 **_Anyways,_ I know you've all been waiting, so let's get to it. :) Time for some fluffier moments, a massive calm before the very MASSIVE storm. X)**

 **I deeply apologize for the long wait, my life has been extremely busy, so I turned my focus to one of my other stories. I'm working hard to keep up with all of my stories now, wish me luck. :)**

 **I can't say I'll be updating this regularly but I remembered recently how fun it was to write and decided to give it a go again. :)**

 **Special thanks to all of you reviewers who asked me to continue – specifically _SlytherinAvengerPrincess_ , who inspired me just a few hours ago to pick this story up once more.**

 **If you submitted a request it has been accepted! :)**

 **Thanks so much for your guys support! You're all so sweet! X) I'm glad you're enjoying what I hope is originality and creativity. :)**

 **If you see anything extremely similar or possibly copied let me know because this idea is COMPLETELY MINE. Copyrighted. :)**

 **Shall we?**

 _Pietro Maximoff_

"Are you sure you can handle this?" Steve inquired, raising an eyebrow as the jet landed. Pietro was so damn happy that Steve hadn't been flying the aircraft, and that a S.H.I.E.L.D. pilot had been brought in instead. No offense to the soldier, but he was a bit out of tune with StarkPhones, let alone S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjets.

"Relax, we've got it," Pietro waved him off as he got to his feet. Peter unbuckled his seatbelt and snatched Pietro's new meds from the seat. Pietro caught up quickly, taking his usual place at Peter's side. Wanda followed behind the two, keeping close to Steve as the four exited.

"Do not worry, Captain, I'm sure we will be fine," Wanda gave her best smile, which didn't seem to ease Steve's worry. "Lila and Cooper are sweet, they won't be a problem." She persuaded. "And Nathaniel can't be too hard to take care of."

"These _are_ human lives, you know?" said a hesitant Steve. "Did you do anything like this in Sokovia?"

"Yes," Pietro replied immediately, causing Peter to turn to him with a confused gaze. "In Hydra there were child subjects. We helped take care of them." Steve raised an eyebrow as if to ask 'and…how are they…?' Pietro continued walking. "They died." He stated, face devoid of emotion.

Steve furrowed his brows. "That's…not reassuring…" he scratched the back of his neck.

/Pietro!/ scolded Wanda mentally.

He rolled his eyes. _Wanda._

/You're always so cranky after doctor's appointments./ she grumbled.

 _Blah, blah, blah, you're just as grumpy, soră,_ he snapped back, getting a little impatient. _I just want to go inside. It's bright out and my eyes hurt._

/And people wonder why you're so pale./ Wanda rolled her eyes.

/Give him a break, I mean, the dude had to entertain the sexy doctor./ Peter wiggled his eyebrows and Pietro smirked back, elbowing Peter in the side with a brotherly grin.

 _Shut up!_ He chuckled silently.

Wanda sighed out loud. "Don't worry, Steve," she stopped and turned to the captain, realizing they had yet to reassure him. "We can handle the children, and I can keep _the other children_ under control."

"Hey!" Peter and Pietro snapped in unison.

That seemed to ease his nerves. "Y'know, you woulda made a mighty good general back in my day," He gave a friendly smile. She returned it with ease.

It was weird seeing his sister smile so regularly. She didn't used to. It made Pietro mentally debate why that was. He quickly distracted himself with other thoughts.

"Alright, good luck. You have all of our numbers, so don't be afraid to call."

"Of course," Wanda nodded.

Pietro continued for the door and heard a creak as the S.H.I.E.L.D. Jet ramp closed, then a gust of wind as the jet took off. It blew all of his hair into his face, bangs whirling around his eyes. Peter's product-filled hair was sent into a fluffy whirled mess, and yet Wanda's miraculously survived (How!?).

Peter opened the door and Pietro followed him in, however the two stopped upon reaching Lila setting down her backpack on a hook in the front hallway. Nathaniel's baby carrier sat on the carpet, Nathaniel shockingly quiet inside. Pietro glanced in and made sure the baby was still breathing, relieved when he saw the rise and fall of Nathaniel's chest. The speedster lifted his head to see Cooper shoulder-deep in a box of _Froot Loops_ , rummaging around and coming back out with a handful, shoving it hungrily in his mouth.

"Mommy just dropped us off," Lila explained. She gave a face that could rival a small kitten's on the Adorableness Scale. "She said you'd make us Mac 'n Cheese."

"Um…" Wanda bit her lip. "Yes…of course…" the witch frowned, her previous confidence gone in an instant. What she hadn't admitted to the good captain, but Pietro knew very well, was that she had never been great at cooking, her only edible dishes being of Sokovian decent. "Of course we will."

Pietro sighed. This was off to a good start. "Will we now?" he muttered.

"Pietro will get right to that," continued Wanda, not paying any mind to her brother.

"What?!" Pietro demanded immediately, eyebrows shooting upwards. "I don't—"

Peter cut in quickly. "Yea, he's gonna be great at that. Lila, why don't you show Wanda your stuffed animals?" he suggested, sending a hinting look at Wanda. Pietro gaped. Wanda's eyebrows twitched upwards in surprise, and then returned to normal as she caught on.

"Ah, yes, that sounds fun?" she nodded unsurely.

"Yea! Come on, come on, come on!" yipped Lila excitedly, grabbing Wanda's hand and swiftly bouncing over to the stairs and tugging Wanda up to her room. Pietro stared, eyebrows furrowing slowly.

"Wha-?"

"Come on, Cooper. While Pietro makes dinner, we can play video games." Peter suggested with a smirk. "I've only lost 3 rounds, I can still win!" he added for good measure.

Cooper nodded happily, dropping his cereal—sending it scattering across the floor—and leaping for the couch, shouting "No way! I'm gonna win!" as he did.

"I-? No—!" Pietro stammered as Peter gave him a charming innocent smile that Pietro guaranteed had seduced many girls. The arachnid shrugged, passing Pietro and plopping onto the sofa next to Clint's son. "That's—Hey!" Pietro complained to the empty space. He huffed angrily and peered down at Nathaniel, who blinked at him.

"Alright, Little Pietro…can you cook?"

 ** _~AVENGERS~_**

Nathaniel was perched on Pietro's left arm in an upwards position. The baby peered over his shoulder with young eyes and curled his small toes just above Pietro's right hip. He made a small whine-like noise and Pietro bounced him.

"Hush, _Motănel_ ," he said absentmindedly through the wooden spoon clutched in his teeth. It quieted the child, who in turn gave Pietro a curious face. The Sokovian focused intently on the blue box in his right hand. Lowering the box a little, he then stared at the pot that sat on the stove in front of him. Nathaniel reached up and pulled the spoon from between his teeth, clutching it tightly. Pietro sighed and managed a half-smirk.

Turning, Pietro peered into the living room. Peter and Cooper both had their tongues out in matching faces of concentration as they clicked away at their Xbox controllers and raced some very unusual cars on screen.

"Nooooo!" wailed Cooper as his car spun. The noise startled Nathaniel, but, instead of crying out, the almost-1-year-old baby pouted and gave a face that reminded Pietro of the face Wanda used when she scolded Pietro. He snickered and turned back to his work, picking out a measuring cup. He carefully held Nathaniel in the crook of his elbow as he held the pitcher in one hand, and picked up the box of macaroni in the other.

Pinching the box between a couple fingers, the speedster used his index finger and thumb to turn on the faucet and held the pitcher under until it was full. He poured the water into the pot and continued until he'd emptied 6 cups of water into the container. Pietro flicked the heat on and watched as the water began sizzling.

Lucky barked upstairs and Pietro furrowed his brows, eyeing the ceiling, but eased when he heard a fit of giggles from Lila and his sister's loud laughter. Peter shouted something and then laughed, but it was mostly white noise now.

Pietro set down the box of Mac 'n Cheese and carefully rolled up the sleeves on his black and white sweatshirt. He'd worn this sweatshirt for most of his time in Hydra, during the escape, basically the entire time up until the battle of Sokovia. It was filled with good memories and bad memories and Pietro didn't intend on getting _cheese_ on it. A couple miniscule drops of water splashed on his health-monitor watch and the Speedster was quick to unclip it and toss it onto the counter.

He tore open the package, pausing momentarily to flick an eyebrow upwards at the picture of a strange cartoony sponge on the front. He dumped the noodles into the boiling pot. They hissed and sizzled and Pietro acted fast to stop the strange packet of yellowish-white dust from falling in. He pinched it between two fingers, as if it were contaminated, and examined it carefully.

"What are you?" he asked quietly. This couldn't be the cheese…could it? Pietro knew American cheese was questionable at best, but he figured this…this… _dust_ couldn't possibly be qualified as edible. "What…?"

Eyes darting around to make sure no one was looking, the Sokovian reluctantly stuck his tongue out and closed his eyes tightly, bringing the packet closer to his tongue.

Nathaniel garbled something untranslatable and giggled.

"Yes, thank you, Pietro Jr. No need to be rude," sighed Pietro as he frowned and set down the packet. He began reading the box for directions again. This process was halted when a spoon nearly took out his eye and clattered into the pot, splashing a couple droplets of boiling water onto Pietro's arm. The speedster yelped and scrambled backwards, clutching Nathaniel and waving his free arm about. The elder of the two turned to the younger, who gave an innocent giggle.

Pietro pressed his lips together. "You're just like your father, you know that?" he grumbled, swiping the spoon from the Mac 'n Cheese and stirring it at a quick tempo. After all, he didn't _do_ slow.

A few minutes of stirring and he poured in the white dust (cheese?). _God, I miss my powers_ , he thought bitterly as he _walked_ over to the refrigerator and pulled out some butter and milk. He _walked_ back over to the pot and slipped in a little butter and then some—Uh oh. Whoops. – _all_ of the milk.

Dumping the carton into the recycling, he finished up the Mac 'n Cheese and half-heartedly microwaved half a box of leftover pizza from the other night for Wanda and Peter. Setting Nathaniel in his booster seat, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out.

"I'm going to eat everything if you're not here in five seconds!"

Nathaniel garbled an agreement with a wide smile, clapping his hands and earning a pat on the head from Pietro.

Scrambling could be heard upstairs, along with another laugh from Wanda. Peter and Cooper shoved each other like children (well, Cooper had an excuse) as they darted over the backrest of the couch and flew into their seats. Seconds later, Lila came running down the stairs, still firmly tugging Wanda by the sweater sleeve. Lucky padded after them at their feet, a bow tied to his collar. They too took their seats and Pietro nodded approvingly. They collectively agreed to feed Nathaniel after dinner, seeing as he'd been fed only an hour ago.

Pietro went around the table serving pizza and Mac 'n Cheese.

"Nice apron," chimed Peter playfully as Pietro passed, eyeing Clint's 'Hot Stuff : Coming Through!' apron, which Pietro donned proudly.

Humorously, Pietro batted him over the head with the spoon. Peter winced but grinned.

"Why is my Mac 'n Cheese so soupy?" asked Lila, not in complaint, but more of genuine curiosity as she poked and scooped it with her spoon, watching it slide off of her spoon and back into the bowl with a 'splish'.

Wanda answered quickly, "Pietro hasn't had the most exp—"

The speedster interrupted her, "It's probably the Fairy Dust." He said casually. "It tends to make food more soupy so that the unicorns can eat it easier."

The young girl's eyes widened, and Wanda's face grew a smile of disbelief, as if she was asking 'Did you really just go there?'

Cooper laughed, understanding that it was a joke, and smiled grinned at Peter instead.

"That's so nice of them!" Lila's eyes brightened suddenly as she bounced in her chair excitedly. "A fairy sprinkled her dust in _my_ Mac 'n Cheese?! Daddy's never gotten a fairy to do magic on our Mac 'n Cheese!" Her eyes were widened in pure childish delight, and it made Pietro's heart lift.

"Yes, well," the white haired speedster sat elegantly at the end of the table, tossing his oven-mits aside. "I guess this means I'm a better cook than him, huh?"

Lila nodded, smiling widely. Wanda breathed a laugh and rolled her eyes, although she smiled nonetheless. Peter smirked around his fork, which was firmly between his lips. Cooper poked at his Mac 'n Cheese with wide eyes, as if contemplating the fairy dust theory. Nathaniel waved his hands around.

Pietro took a first bite of his glorious dish. The texture was _very_ strange. Gooey from the pauses between stirring and soupy from the extra milk, but with small clumps of cheese gathered around and over the top. It didn't taste to bad once you were past that.

"I did great," he said proudly, cocky as ever.

Mutters of 'eh' and 'well, I wouldn't say…' mixed in with Lila's "Yea! You're the best!" immediately followed.

"I wouldn't go that far," Wanda sent a look at her brother, the type of look a competitor sent their enemy, but with kindness in her eyes.

"Like you could do any better," he retorted goodheartedly. "Same goes for you." He tossed at Peter.

"I could _so_ do better!" Peter argued defensively. "I've never screwed up a dish."

"Yes you have, Peter!" Lila chirped brightly, face scrunching in confusion. Peter quickly waved his hands, as if trying to shush her. "Remember? You tried to make me cereal this morning!"

Peter sank a bit in his chair, hand over face and a long sigh escaping.

Wanda raised a curious eyebrow. "How do you mess up—?"

"Don't ask. Just don't," interrupted Peter with another sigh.

Lila wasn't finished. She continued to count on her fingers. "And then there's the sandwiches, mom's leftovers, those cupcakes for dad, the—"

Pietro snickered, having mercy on the blushing arachnid as he gently interrupted the little girl. "Maybe I'll have to give you cooking lessons, with my _great_ culinary abilities."

"Yea, yea, whatever," the arachnid grumbled. "As great as they are," said Peter on the other hand. "I think I'll stick with the pizza."

This time it was Lila to smack Peter over the head. "Sh! Don't say that! The fairies will get mad!"

 ** _~AVENGERS~_**

Pietro was sprawled out on the couch, legs propped up on one armrest and head on the other. His arms were folded comfortably underneath his head as he watched the strange sponge walk across the screen. It was the same thing as the mac and cheese box.

Lila was situated on the floor. She laid on her stomach, feet kicking up and down and a smile on her face. Peter and Wanda were finishing up the dishes, although Peter was focusing on the television as well. Meanwhile, Cooper sat on the stairs, clicking away at some game as he peaked over at the show.

"The Krusty Crab Pizza! Is the pizza! For you and me!" the character sang.

"I don't get it," stated Pietro simply.

Lila ignored him, singing along.

"You wouldn't," commented Peter from the kitchen.

"What is this?" Pietro furrowed his brows.

"Spongebob Squarepants," answered Peter casually, swiping the towel over a plate.

"Huh?" none of this was clearing anything up. At all. "He is a…sponge?"

"Uh huh."

"In pants…?"

"Yep."

"And his friend is a star fish…?"

"Yes."

"So they're underwater?"

Peter chuckled. "That's the idea, yea."

Pietro paused, staring as the sponge's face became horribly deformed and he shouted the last lyrics of the song. They didn't have these things in Sokovia. Not at all. His brow crinkled once more.

"Then how is there pizza?"

Peter chuckled and then halted suddenly. Pietro glanced up at him to find the arachnid stopped his dish washing and had a face to match Pietro's confused one.

"Huh. I ah…I never really thought about that…"

 ** _~AVENGERS~_**

Pietro gently pulled up Lila's pink blanket.

He crouched down and grabbed her bear from the ground, along with the dog, monkey, pig and horse. He handed the various animals to the girl and clicked the light down a few notches until it was at the lowest setting, where Lila liked it.

The white-haired young man looked down to find Lila staring back up at him with a frown.

"What's wrong, _soră_?" Pietro inquired, brushing his hand over her head.

She paused, seeming to think about it. "Doesn't that mean sister?" she asked quietly.

Pietro raised an eyebrow. It had just been instinct. He suddenly felt the need to apologize. "Yes…why?"

"Are you my brother…?" she asked unsurely. "Because…I mean…my brother is named after you…but…but Daddy never calls you my brother? And…and you're not my uncle because you're not Daddy's brother? But…he told Mommy that he loved you…?"

"What?" demanded Pietro immediately.

"He said," she put on her 'dad voice', an awkward imitation of Clint. " _I love him like a son, Laura_ —that's my Mommy's name." she clarified.

Pietro was speechless. The last person to love him like a son was his parents. And they died. "That is strange." He agreed reluctantly.

"So are you my brother?" continued Laura. "Because Cooper's my brother and he teases me a lot. You don't do that…but you are old..."

Pietro couldn't help but smile. "I'm not old, little one. You're just young."

Lila's little eyes brightened. "Oh yea. I guess that's true." She turned back to him sharply. "Hold on you're doing what Daddy always does. Answer the question!" she chirped.

Pietro debated the answer unsurely, walking across the room to the light switch that controlled the main light.

"I am whatever you want me to be," he finally said, flipping the switch and slipping out of the room.

As the speedster limped down the hall, he heard a small voice yawn after him.

"You're a good brother."

Pietro barely had time to feel his heart lift before he was running into someone else.

"Cute," smiled Wanda, taking both of Pietro's hands and looking up at him fondly.

"Whatever," he replied instinctively, kissing her forehead lightly.

"I am going to bed. Lucky is in Clint's room sleeping. Cooper is asleep on the chair in his room, I'm heading in there now. I think Peter is in his room."

Pietro felt concern briefly wash over him. "Alright, I'll check on him. Goodnight _soră_."

Wanda yawned, covering it with her sweater paw and slipping past her brother, her hand holding his gently until they were out of reach. "Goodnight _Motănel_."

Pietro took the stairs two at a time, regretting it briefly due to the pain that bit at his sides. Said pain was quickly forgotten however as he stepped through the screen door and inhaled the brisk night air.

Out there on Clint's land, the sky was a wide open black canvas with tiny speckles of white paint glittering here and there. The moon was off to his left and Pietro couldn't help but think of his own hair as he gazed up at it. There weren't any city lights in sight and it brought a strange sense of calm.

Pietro turned his head to the left, peering down towards the barn.

Clint and Laura were gone. Everyone else was asleep.

Before he had time to change his mind, wind whipped through the speedster's hair and everything slowed down—or rather sped up for Pietro. He watched a bat swoop through the air and swallow a mosquito. He saw a star dim and light up again in slow motion. The barn approached.

With childish joy, Pietro turned and skidded to a stop. Realizing no one would hear him, the young man leapt with joy and cheered. He took some deep breaths and spun a little. He'd missed his speed _so_ much. Without another thought, he was zipping back towards the house.

A couple thirds of the way there and his knees finally gave out. So maybe it wasn't the _best_ idea, but as Pietro tumbled into the grass and ended up laying on his back in the dirt, staring up at the stars, he really didn't care.

Closing his eyes, the Sokovian took in another deep breath and almost _treasured_ the burning sensation in his feet, realizing he hadn't thought to put on shoes and the bottom of his socks had now been burnt off, leaving awkward ankle-warmers.

"That was stupid." Chuckled Pietro to himself, wincing and clutching his side but smiling nonetheless.

"Yea, it was," came a reply.

Pietro, still in a strange euphoric joy, peered up at the side of the house.

Outside of his bedroom window, perched on the wall, sat the spider himself : Peter Parker. The boy looked exhausted but sat on the wall effortlessly.

"How long have you been there?" inquired Pietro.

"The entire time," Peter answered honestly as he worked his way down the paneling of the walls and landed barefoot in the grass. He walked over and glanced down at the Sokovian.

"May I?"

Pietro nodded and focused back on the stars, adrenaline flowing as he felt the pain in his feet ebb away. Peter sat down and then laid down, copying Pietro's position in the grass a foot away. The two laid together in silence for a bit.

"My uncle was killed last year," announced Peter with a sigh as he stared peacefully up at the stars.

Pietro didn't look at him. It wasn't said with drama, or depression, or longing, it was a fact. A trust exercise. This was Peter trying to open up.

"My parents were bombed in Sokovia," answered Pietro with a sigh. He watched Peter look up at the sky with half-lidded eyes.

"My girlfriend died in my arms."

Pietro swallowed hard. His voice broke as he continued. "I died in Clint's arms."

It wasn't a competition. It was a trade.

"I am _terrified_."

"Of what?"

"Of…everything…" Peter sighed.

"Yea…" Pietro blinked up at the stars. "Me too."

Peter sat up and Pietro followed.

Peter hugged his knees to his chest. "I don't think I wanna leave."

Pietro wrapped an arm around the boy, and Peter barely hesitated before resting his head on Pietro's shoulder. Pietro paused.

"Then don't."

 **How did I do?**

 **I know it ended kinda sounding sad but that's not what I wanted it to be. I hope you all took it like I did and saw it as bonding? I'm not sure. I just saw the scene unfold very clearly in my head. :)**

 **Please drop comments, they make my world spin round. ;)**

 **I desperately hope this satisfied all of you, I can't say how much it means to me that you all continued to comment on this story. *heart***

 **I love you guys. :)**

 **Till next time.**

 **-AG**


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